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BOOK    822.08.D668S   v.  1    c.  1 
DODSLEY    #    SELECT    COLLECTION    OF 
OLD    PLAYS 


3    T1S3    0D]it,Mb7i    5 


}^ 


This  book  may  be  kept 

FOURTF^N  DAYS 


I 


OLD    PLAYS. 


VOLUME  L 


PREFACES. 

HISTORIA  HISTRIONICA. 

GOD'S  PROMISES. 

THE  FOUR  P's. 

FERREX  AND  PORREX. 

DAMON  AND  PITHIAS. 

NEW  CUSTOME. 


iM.DCCG.AAV. 


A 

SELECT  COLLECTION 

OF 

OLD      PLAYS. 

IN  TWELVE  VOLUMES. 


VOL.  L 


A   NEW   EDITION  I 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES  AND  CORRECTIONS, 


BY  THE  LATE 


ISAAC  REED,  OCTAVIUS  GILCHRLST, 
AND  THE  EDITOR, 


LONDON: 

SEPTIMUS  PROWETT,  23,  OLD  BOND  STREET. 


\  w 


-i) 


\  n 


M.BCCC.XXr. 


Thomas  White,  Printer, 
Crare  Court. 


ADVERTISEMENT 


THE   PRESENT   EDITION. 


The  length  of  the  prefatory  matter  to  the  Editions 
of  this  Collection  of  Old  Plays  by  Mr.  Dodsley,  in 
1744,  and  by  Mr.  Reed,  in  1780,  renders  it  unne- 
cessary now  to  add  more  than  a  very  short  statement 
of  what  has  been  done  to  make  the  present  under- 
taking acceptable. 

Five  and  forty  years  have  elapsed  since  the  last 

reprint   was   published,   and    during   that  interval 

ardour  of  pursuit  in  this  particular  department  has 

^^considerably  increased  the  stock  of  knowledge  pre- 

^    viously  obtained   regarding  the    early  drama   and 

j    poetry  of  England.  Mr.  Reed,  by  his  laborious  in- 

;j|  '.dustry,  acquired  additional  information,  appended 

■^l^-by  him  in  MS.  to  a  copy  of  the  Old  Plays  of  1780, 

which  subsequently  devolved  into  the  possession  of 

the  late  Mr.  Octavius  Gilchrist,  long  known  as  a 

tasteful  and  patient  literary  antiquary.     He  joined 

his  acquisitions  to  those    of  Mr.  Reed,  and  their 

-;     latest   notes    and  illustrations   are    here   inserted, 

b 


together  with  such  farther  intelligence,  connected 
with  the  subject,  as  the  Editor  had  obtained  from 
the  enquiries  of  others,  or  discovered  by  his  own 
research. 

It  is  singular  that  a  series  of  Old  Plays,  collected 
professedly  for  the  purpose  of  illustrating  the  rise 
and  progress  of  the  stage  in  this  country,  and 
comprising,  as  Mr.  Reed  somewhat  incautiously 
observes,  "  a  specimen  of  almost  every  author  who 
contributed  to  support  it,"  should  not  have  con- 
tained a  single  performance  by  such  distinguished 
poets  as  Greene,  Peele,  Nash,  and  Lodge.  The 
conjecture  of  Mr.  Malone,  and  of  other  biographers 
is,  that  Shakespeare  did  not  begin  to  write  for  the 
Theatre  until  about  1591 ;  when,  therefore,  it  is  men- 
tioned that  the  four  authors  above  named  ceased 
to  produce  plays  before  or  very  soon  after  the  date 
when  our  great  dramatist  commenced  his  career,  it 
is  ^obvious  how  necessary  it  must  be,  with  a  view  to 
ascertain  the  correctness  of  Dryden's  re-echoed  as- 
sertion, that  Shakespeare  "  created  first  the  stage," 
to  examine  the  efforts  of  his  immediate  predeces- 
sors. For  this  purpose,  in  the  present  edition,  four 
plays  of  great  celebrity  in  their  day  have  been 
substituted  for  others  by  Ford  and  Shirley,  hitherto 
included,  but  which  it  was  needless  to  retain, 
because  reprints  of  the  works  of  both  those  poets 
are  on  the  eve  of  publication,  under  the  care  of 
Mr.  Gifford.      Recollecting  how  much  each  per- 


Ill 


formance  will  gain  by  his  editorship,  it   might  be 
prudent  also  to  shun  comparison. 

The  arrangement  of  the  plays  by  Mr.  Heed  was  ac- 
cording to  the  dates  when  they  were  printed  ;  but  if 
his  object  were,  as  he  states,  **  to  shew  the  progress  of 
genius,"  it  is  quite  evident  that  by  this  plan  he  accom- 
plished nothing ;  since  the  time  of  publication  was 
not  unfrequently  far  distant  from  that  when  the  piece 
was  actually  written  :  thus  Marlow's  Jew  of  Malta, 
the  author  of  which  was  killed  in  159^,  obtained  a 
place  in  the  same  volume  with  May's  /ie/r,  and 
Davenant's  Ifits,  the  one  written  perhaps  thirty  and 
the  other  forty  years  afterwards.  Nevertheless, 
the  success  of  any  attempt  to  insert  them  according 
to  the  period  when  they  were  first  produced  must 
often  depend  upon  mere  conjecture,  and  such  a 
plan  would  likewise  be  open  to  other  objections.* 
Upon  the  whole,  therefore,  it  was  thought  best  not 
to  disturb  the  course  followed  in  1780  beyond  the 
insertion  of  the  four  plays  new  to  the  present 
edition,  in  vacancies  occasioned  by  the  omission 
of  the  following : 

'Tis  Pity  she's  a  Whore,  by  John  Ford. 

The  Bird  in  a  Cage,  by  James  Shirley. 

•  In  order  however,  to  enable  the  reader  to  peruse  the 
plays  chrouolotrically  or  otherwise,  a  list  of  the  whole 
series  has  been  supplied  in  the  12th  vol.  made  out  according 
to  the  dates  wlien  they  were  actually,  or  may  be  supposed 
to  have  been  written. 


IV 


The  Gamester,  by  the  same, 

Andromana,  by  the  same. 

Instead  of  these, 

The  Wounds  of  Civil  War,  by  Thomas  Lodge. 

Friar  Bacon  and  Friar  Bungay,  by  Robt.  Greene. 
<  Summer's  Last  Will  and  Testament,  by  Thomas 
Nash,  and 

Edward  I.  by  George  Peele, 
have  been  inserted.  To  the  twelfth  volume  have 
also  been  added  two  very  early  and  rare  dramatic 
specimens — the  one  an  Interlude,  called  The 
Worlde  and  the  Chylde,  printed  by  Wynkin  de 
Worde,  in  1522,  and  the  other.  The  Tragicall 
Comedie  of  Apins  and  Virginia,  published  in  1575. 
For  the  sake  of  more  convenient  reference,  by 
having  all  the  introductory  matter  together,  the 
Dialogue  on  Plays  and  Players,  called  Historia 
Histrionica ,  and  Sir  W.  Davenant's  Patent  of  1662, 
have  been  transferred  from  the  12th  volume  of  the 
last  edition  to  the  1st  volume  of  the  present. 

Although  Mr.  Reed  bestowed  great  attention  on 
his  undertaking,  and  removed  many  of  the  imper- 
fections of  Mr.  Dodsley's  original  collection ;  and 
although  it  might  be  supposed  from  his  preface,  that 
by  consulting  earlier  and  better  copies,  and  collating 
all  the  plays,  he  had  rendered  the  text  sufficiently 
perfect,  yet  the  fact  is,  that  he  performed  this 
irksome  part  of  the  duty  of  an  Editor  with  less  care 
than  the  rest.     Neither  do  his  later  MS.  notes  shew 


that  he  was  conscious  of  the  defectiveness  of  his 
labours  in  this  particular ;  and  excepting  in  a  very 
few  instances,  and  as  applied  to  a  very  few  pages, 
Mr.  Gilchrist  did  not  attempt  to  remedy  it.  How 
necessary  it  was  that  such  a  collation  should  be 
made  will  be  apparent  from  the  many  instances 
in  which  the  variations  are  now  marked.  In  seve- 
ral of  the  plays  gross  errors  of  this  kind  had  crept 
into  almost  every  page  ;  and  though  in  others  they 
were  less  numerous,  still  they  were  frequent 
and  important.  Sometimes  the  words  of  all  the  old 
copies  were  departed  from  without  notice  or 
necessity,  and  in  several  instances,  dedications, 
songs,  and  parts  of  the  dialogue  were  omitted, 
while  whole  speeches  were  assigned  to  wrong 
characters.  The  Editor  does  not  make  this  state- 
ment at  all  to  diminish  the  degree  of  gratitude  due 
to  Mr.  Reed  for  what  he  did  accomplish,  nor  to 
attract  credit  to  himself  for  the  performance  of  a 
tedious  and  generally  thankless  task  :  he  mentions 
it  merely  as  a  matter  of  fact. 

He  is  aware  how  much  might  yet  be  done  in  the 
regulation  of  the  metre.  The  old  printers,  as  is 
well  known,  were  often  quite  regardless  of  the 
verse ;  either,  because  attention  to  it,  by  requiring 
too  much  room,  did  not  suit  the  price  at  which  a  play 
was  published,  or  because  the  manuscript,  often 
surreptitiously  obtained,  reached  them  in  a  very 
confused  and  imperfect  state.     In  several  places 


VI 

Mr.  Gilchrist's  suggestions  in  this  respect  have  been 
adopted;  and  in  general,  wherever  the  measure 
could  be  distinctly  ascertained,  and  restored  without 
violence  to  the  text,  the  attempt  has  been  made.  It 
has  not  unfrequently  happened  that  the  omission  or 
insertion  of  a  single  unimportant  word  or  syllable 
would  have  accomphshed  the  object;  but  the  Editor 
preferred  the  observance  of  fidelity  to  any  trifling 
exercise  of  ingenuity.  It  may  be  added  that  Mr. 
Reed  paid  less  attention  to  punctuation  than  its 
importance  to  the  sense  required. 

The  biographical  and  preliminary  matter  to  each 
play  has  been  rendered  more  complete  than  hitherto 
by  the  improved  state  of  information  regarding  our 
early  poets  and  poetry :  in  some  instances  it  has 
been  re-written ;  in  others,  it  is  entirely  new,  and 
in  nearly  all  cases,  additional  and  perhaps  useful 
notes  have  been  appended.  The  conciseness  of 
the  plan  established  in  the  outset  prevented  the 
introduction  of  critical  remarks. 

In  the  notes  generally,  the  Editor  did  not  feel 
himself  at  liberty  to  make  any  change:  they  are 
inserted  as  they  stood  in  the  edition  of  1780, 
while  the  farther  MS.  illustrations  of  Mr.  Reed 
and  Mr.  Gilchrist  are  given  as  they  left  them.  Of 
the  printed  notes,  a  few  might  have  been  wholly 
omitted,  some  considerably  abbreviated,  and  others 
adfantageously  altered;  but  under  all  the  circum- 
stances, it  was  deemed  prudent  to  reprint  them 


vu 


entire.  Those  for  which  the  Editor  is  responsible 
are  marked  with  the  letter  C.  He  has  been  anxious 
in  them  to  avoid  prolixity,  and  where  verbal  criti- 
cism was  necessary  he  has  subjoined  no  more  quo- 
tations from  contemporary  writers  than  he  thought 
necessary  for  illustration.  Perhaps  the  notes  on 
some  of  the  plays  now  first  re-printed  would  have 
been  fewer  had  the  Editor  not  been  desirous  to 
make  the  whole  work  consistent.  The  new  matter 
by  Mr.  Reed  and  Mr.  Gilchrist  is  distinguished  by 
the  initials  of  their  names. 

C. 

London,  January,  1826. 


Mr.  REED'S  PREFACE. 


The  Works  of  our  ancient  dramatic  writers  have 
suffered  a  very  long,  and,   some  few  excepted,  a 
very  general  neglect.     Though  possessed  of  innu- 
merable beauties,  they    have   been    known   in    so 
imperfect  a  manner,   that  their  very  names  have 
almost  escaped  the  readers  of  the  present  times. 
The  merits  of  writers  are  not  always  to  be  esti- 
mated from  the  reputation  which  they  bear  with 
the  public.      Accident  and  caprice   contribute  to 
advance    some  authors  above  their  due  rank ;  and 
the  same  causes  as  frequently  depress  below  their 
proper  stations,  others  who  are  entitled  to  a  supe- 
rior degree  of  regard.     The  truth  of  these  obser- 
vations might   be  illustrated  by  instances  without 
number.      Many  productions   have    been  at  first 
coldly  received,    which  afterwards  have  met  with 
the  highest  applause.    Some  have  been  praised  and 
neglected  ;  while    others,  from  a  concurrence   of 
circumstances    in  which   excellence    hath   had   no 
concern,  have  for  a  time  acquired  a  share  of  favour 
which  they  have  been  unable  to  retain.     Such  hath 


MR.  reed's  preface. 


been  the  revolution  of  taste,  that  not  a  few  works 
have  been  both  applauded  and  condemned  by  the 
same  persons ;  and  this  will  be  esteemed  the  less 
extraordinary,  when  it  is  considered  how  many, 
who  pronounce  on  the  beauties  or  defects  of 
authors,  decide  without  any  previous  knowledge  of 
what  they  approve  or  censure,  how  many  rely  on 
the  opinion  of  others,  and  how  few  are  capable  of 
exercising  any  judgment  of  their  own. 

To  whatever  cause  it  is  to  be  ascribed,  there  can 
be  no  question  but  that  the  works  of  those  who 
flourished  in  the  reigns  of  Queen  EUzabeth  and  her 
successor  were  not  until  lately  much  studied  ;  and 
the  dramatic  poets  were  not  less  neglected  than 
their  contemporary  brethren.  Even  those  who  are 
now  held  in  the  greatest  reverence  were  not  exempt 
from  the  same  contemptuous  treatment,  and  in 
consequence  of  it  were  almost  suffered  to  sink  into 
oblivion  and  obscurity.  Many  parts  of  Shakspeare, 
the  God  of  our  present  idolatry,  and  some  whole 
FMays,  remained  involved  in  all  the  darkness  which 
a  change  of  manners  and  customs  in  the  lapse  of 
near  two  centuries  had  occasioned ;  and  the  repu- 
tation which  our  favourite  author  possessed  de- 
pended in  some  degree  on  the  frequent  representa- 
tion of  a  very  few  of  his  plays  at  the  theatres.  How 
little  he  was  read  may  be  seen  by  the  example  of 
Sir  Richard  Steele,  who  does  not  appear  to  have 


MR.  REED  S  PREFACE.  XI 


been  acquainted  with  so   popular  a  play   as  The 
Taming  of  a  Shrew^. 

To  account  for  so  general  a  disregard  towards 
the  early  writers  for  the  stage  may  not  be  an  easy 
task,  though  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  prove  the 
injustice  of  it.     Many  causes   are  to  be  assigned. 
The   fanaticism,  which  prevailed  about  the  middle 
of  the   last  century,  had  a  fatal  influence  over  the 
theatre  for  some  time.     The  intemperance  of  reli- 
gious zeal  carried  destruction  along  with  it  wherever 
the   works  of  taste  were  to  be  met  with ;  and  its 
dominion  continued  so  long,  that  few  of  the  dra- 
matic   poets,   who    flourished   when  the  civil  wars 
broke   out,    remained   at   the    Restoration.      The 
convulsions  of  the  times,  which  had  interrupted  all 
kind  of  diversions,  produced  also  a  change  in  the 
manners  of  the  people ;  and  those  who  adhered  to 
monarchy,  on  their  return  from  exi^e,  brought  home 
with  them  a  fondness  for  the  French  school,  which 
soon  superseded  nnd  sunk  into  disrepute  the  rude, 
but   nervous,   productions    of  their    predecessors. 
Those   who   obtained    the    direction    of  dramatic 
entertainments   at  this  period,  had  also  been  ba- 
nished from  their  country,   and  had   acquired  the 
same  taste-    Regularity  therefore  took  place  of  the 
wild  native   efforts   of  genius,   which   were   soon 
driven  from  the    stage ;   the   contemporaries   and 
immediate  successors  of  Shakspeare  became  obso- 

'  See  last  Edition  of  Shakspeare,  vol-  III.  p.  5»?6. 


XU  MR.  REED  S  PREFACE 


lete,  the  humour  which  they  possessed  was  lost, 
and  all  the  allusions,  which  depended  on  temporary 
circumstances,  being  forgotten,  grew  tasteless  and 
insipid.  The  refinements  of  French  manners  also 
created  a  disgust  at  the  coarseness  which  was  com- 
mon in  the  conversation  of  our  forefathers ;  and, 
though  there  was  no  improvement  in  the  morals  of 
the  people,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  that  an  affec- 
tation of  delicacy  reigned,  totally  inconsistent  with 
those  gross  and  vulgar  modes  of  expression  so 
frequently  to  be  found  in  ancient  writers. 

The  first  attempts  in  any  art  are  always  rude  and 
imperfect,  more  calcul?ted  to  exercise  the  sagacity 
of  an  antiquary,  than   to  gratify  a  taste  rendered 
delicate  by  being  accustomed  to  the  improvements 
which  luxury  and  riches  introduce.     The  polish  of 
modem  fashions  ill  agrees  with    the  barbarity    of 
ancient  manners.     The  early  efforts  of  our  ances- 
tors in  the  dramatic  walk  were  therefore  soon  laid 
aside  :  their  pictures  of  human  life  were  exchanged 
for  scenes  displaying  the  follies  of  the  day ;  which, 
in  their  turn,  have  submitted  to  the  same  fate,  being 
at  this  time  as  little  adapted  to  furnish  an  evening's 
entertainment  at  the  theatre,  as  many  of  the  for- 
gotten dramas  in  the  present  volumes.     Congreve, 
Vanbrugh,    and    Gibber,    now    exhibit    characters 
.  almost   as    obsolete  as  those    of  Ben  Jonson,  or 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher ;  and  if  such  names  as  the 
latter  cannot  ensure  a  continuance   of  fame,  the 


MR.  REED  S  PREFACE.  xiii 


Dekkars,  Middletons,  ChapmaBS,  and  Marstons, 
their  contemporaries,  must  give  up  their  claim  to 
immortality  without  a  murmur. 

It  is  a  misfortune  which  must  attend  all  who  write 
for  the  stage,  that  their  happiest  exertions  in  deli" 
neating  life  and    manners   lose  their  force  in  the 
course  of  a  few  years,  and  the  more  faithfully  they 
are  painted,  the  sooner  their  colouring  dies  away. 
The  whimsical  caprices  of  fashion  are  perpetually 
changing,  and,  as  they  pass  daily  before  our  eyes, 
seldom   leave    any    memorial   of  their   existence. 
They  sometimes  are  almost  literally  the  children  of 
a  day ;    and    when    they  expire,   so    much   of  the 
attraction    as    depends  on  such  transient  circum- 
stances is  necessarily  lost.     That  no  small  stress  is 
laid  on  what  cannot  be  long  relished,  may  be  seen 
by    the   practice    of  modern   writers.     It  may  be 
i^sked,  who  has  with  more  success  than  the  late  Mr. 
Foote  catched  the  Jieeting  Cynthia   of  a  minute  ? 
whose  dramatic   pieces   afforded  more  satisfaction 
on  the  stage  ?    Yet,  with  all  that  unequalled  facility 
of  transferring  characters  from  life  to  the  theatre 
which  he  possessed,    his  works    are   already   laid 
aside,  and  must,  if  they  are  remembered  a  century 
hence,  be  indebted  to  the  industry  of  some  painful 
searcher  into  antiquity  for  recovering  lost  allusions 
and  forgotten  facts.     The  truth  is,  there   are  few 
but  prefer  the  applause  of  those  they  live  with  to 
the  approbation  of  succeeding  times.    Their  repre- 


XIV  MR    RRED  S  PREFACE 


sentations  therefore  are  often  so  closely  connected 
with  the  fluctuations  of  fashion,  that  it  has  some- 
times been  necessary  for  an  author  to  be  his  own 
commentator.     Cibber  lived  to  see  the  characters 
of  his  own  coxcombs  become  obsolete  ;  and,  not 
very  late    in  life'^,  was  obliged  to  point  out  the 
distinction  between  the  fops  he  had  drawn,  and  the 
new  race  of  these  insignificant  beings  which  had 
sprung  up  to  succeed  them.     Can  it  then  be  won- 
dered at,  that  we  no  longer  receive  pleasure  from 
the  exhibition  of  the  Foppingtons  and  Fashions, 
which  afforded  so  much  entertainment  to  the  fre- 
quenters  of  our  theatres  at  the  beginning  of  this 
century?     That  the  charm  is  now  lost, must  be  feit 
every   time   these  characters  appear  on  the  stage. 
The  humour  of  them  is  so  interwoven  with  fashions 
now  no  longer  familiar,  that  some  late  attempts  to 
adapt  them  to  modern  manners   have  only  contri- 
buted to  destroy  the  remains  of  spirit  and  meaning 
which  were  left  in  them. 

If  the  works  of  writers  so  near  our  own  days  so 
soon  lose  their  effect,  and  the  restoration  of  them 
to  the  theatre  is  become  a  task  of  such  difficulty, 
the  exclusion  of  performances  of  a  more  remote 
period  will  scarcely  be  considered  as  a  very  for- 
midable objection  to  the  merit  of  them.  In  fact, 
the  same  causes  have  had  the  same  effects  in  both 
cases ;  and  at  present  the  earliest  pieces  are  likely 

^  See  his  Apoloiry,  p.  303-  edit.  1 750. 


MR.  REEDS  PREFACE.  XV 


to  be  more  read,  and  better  understood,  than  even 
those  of  only  fifty  years  standing.  At  a  time  when 
destruction  seemed  to  threaten  most  of  the  pro- 
ductions of  the  early  stage,  and  after,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  many  of  them  were  irrecoverably  lost,  the 
explanation  of  those  writers,  who  may  be  esteemed 
the  classics  of  this  country,  began  to  engage  the 
attention  of  some  of  the  ablest  writers  of  the  pre- 
sent times.  Struck  with  the  absurd  alterations  and 
wild  conjectures  of  critics,  who  mangled  and  dis- 
figured their  authors,  instead  of  elucidating  their 
obscurity,  they  determined  to  search  into  contem- 
porary writers  for  a  solution  of  such  doubts  as  had 
been  created  chiefly  by  time.  The  success  which 
attended  their  enquiries  soon  shewed  the  necessity 
of  an  acquaintance  with  works  which  had  until  then 
been  overlooked,  to  obtain  a  perfect  knowledge  of 
some  of  our  most  esteemed  authors.  It  shewed 
also,  that  many  beauties  had  long  remained  un- 
known and  unnoticed;  that  fame  had  not  always 
accompanied  worth ;  and  that  those  who  wished  for 
information  concerning  ancient  manners  would  not 
be  able  to  obtain  it  so  well  from  any  other  source. 
When  the  value  of  such  kind  of  performance^ 
became  known,  other  difficulties  arose ;  the  ma- 
terials, which  were  to  answer  these  excellent  pur- 
poses, were  not  to  be  obtained  by  those  who  were 
best  able  to  make  use  of  them.  Works,  which 
cease  to  be  popular,  are  in  a  short  time  destroyed  ; 


Xvi  MR.  reed's  preface. 


the  fugitive  pieces  of  all  ages  would  soon  perish, 
on  account  of  the  slender  form  of  their  publication, 
if  they  wei;e  not  from  time  to  time  collected  and 
published  in  a  manner  more  likely  to  ensure  their 
duration.  As  the  use  of  such  collections  is  now- 
confessed  on  all  hands,  it  is  to  be  lamented  that 
care  was  not  taken  sooner  to  preserve  such  slight 
performances  from  the  ravages  of  time  and  acci- 
dent. What  might  have  been  accomplished  with 
the  greatest  ease  in  the  last  century  is  now  become 
an  undertaking  of  much  difficulty.  Many  works 
are  totally  lost;  some  are  already  become  as 
valuable  as  manuscripts ;  and  of  several,  the  best 
editions  are  to  be  sought  after  in  vain.  The 
industry  of  a  few  persons  hath  lately  been  employed, 
with  much  credit  to  themselves,  in  forming  collec- 
tions which  have  been  of  singular  advantage  to  the 
public,  as  may  be  seen  in  some  late  publications  ; 
and  the  liberality  of  the  present  age  is  in  nothing 
more  remarkable,  than  in  the  alacrity  with  which 
the  possessors  of  such  curiosities  communicate 
them  to  those  who  have  occasion  to  consult  them. 

The  present  volumes  were  originally  compiled 
from  the  only  collection  then  known  to  exist,  that 
which  had  been  formed  by  the  Earls  of  Oxford. 
This  afterwards  came  into  the  possession  of  the 
late  Mr.  Garrick ;  and,  with  great  additions,  hath 
since  been  bequeathed  by  him  to  The  British 
Museum.     The  mention  of  this  gentleman's  name 


MR.  REED  S  PREFACE.  XVll 


naturally  reminds  the  Editor,  that  he  should  be 
deficient  in  point  of  f^ratitude,  if  he  omitted  to 
notice  the  readiness  with  which  he  was  allowed  the 
free  use  of  whatever  Mr.  Garrick's  library  contained 
for  the  service  of  this  work.  It  is  no  extravagant 
compliment  to  the  memory  of  a  man,  who  hath 
contributed  more  to  the  public  entertainment  than 
any  person  of  the  present  age ;  that  in  this  parti- 
cular he  had,  as  in  many  other  parts  of  his  character, 
no  superior,  and  scarcely  an  equal.  His  wish  to 
forward  any  literary  undertaking  is  too  well 
known,  and  hath  been  too  often  acknowledged  by 
those  who  were  obHged  to  him,  to  need  any  eulo- 
gium  on  this  subject  at  present ;  and  his  death 
cannot  but  occasion  a  sigh  to  arise  in  the  breast  of 
every  one  who  had  the  happiness  of  his  acquaint- 
ance. 

As  the  public  hath  long  been  in  possession  of  the 
present  work,  it  will  perhaps  be  deemed  unneces- 
sary to  take  up  the  reader's  time  in  pointing  out 
the  value  of  what  he  is  about  to  peruse.  It  may, 
however,  be  with  decency  asserted,  that  it  is  cal- 
culated to  afford  a  great  degree  of  entertainment  to 
those  who  would  be  acquainted  from  what  shght 
beginnings  the  English  theatre  arose  to  its  present 
state  of  improvement.  It  will  shew  the  progress 
of  genius  in  the  course  of  more  than  a  century ; 
and  it  will  exhibit  a  specimen  of  almost  every  author 
who  contributed  to  support  the  stage  during  that 


xviii  MR.  reed's  preface. 


period.     The  vices  aud  follies,  the  maimers,  cus- 
toms, fashions,  caprices,  and  pursuits  of  our  ances- 
tors, will  here  pass  in  review  before  us  ;  and  in  so 
lively  a  manner,  that  he  who  would  draw  a  com- 
parison between  the  modes  of  living  of  the  present 
and  former  times,  may  be  furnished  with  materials 
to  make  his  judgment  from.     If  he  should  chance 
to  find  any  thing  offensive  to  delicacy,  he  will  recol- 
lect the  times  in  which  these  Plays  appeared  are 
not  to  be  commended  for  the  observation  of  a  strict 
decorum.     There  are  many  proofs,  that  the  courts 
of  Elizabeth,  and   her   two    successors,  were   ex- 
tremely licentious  in  conversation;  and  it  would  be 
vain  to  expect  a  greater  degree  of  chastity  at  the 
public  theatres,  than  was  to  be  found  where  Royalty 
resided,    especially  when  it   is    known  that   each 
sovereign  was  in  this  particular  highly  censurable. 

The  first  Edition  of  the  present  Volumes  was  one 
of  the  many  excellent  plans  produced  by  the  late 
Mr.  Robert  Dodsley,  a  man  to  whom  literature  is 
under  so  many  obligations,  that  it  would  be  un- 
pardonable to  neglect  this  opportunity  of  informing 
those  who  may  have  received  any  pleasure  from  the 
work,  that  they  owe  it  to  a  person  whose  merit  and 
abilities  raised  him  from  an  obscure  situation  in  life 
to  affluence  and  independence.  Modest,  sensible, 
aud  humane,  he  retained  the  virtues  which  first 
brought  him  into  notice,  after  he  had  obtained 
wealth  sufiicient  to  satisfy  every  wish  which  could 


MR.  REED  S  PREFACE.  XIX 


arise  from  the  possession  of  it.  He  was  a  generous 
friend,  an  encourager  of  men  of  genius ;  and  ac- 
quired the  esteem  and  respect  of  all  who  were 
acquainted  with  him.  It  was  his  happiness  to  pass 
the  greater  part  of  his  life  with  those  whose  names 
will  be  revered  by  posterity  ;  by  most  of  whom  he 
was  loved  as  much  for  the  virtues  of  his  heart,  as 
he  was  admired  on  account  of  his  excellent 
writings.  After  a  life  spent  in  the  exercise  of  every 
social  duty,  he  fell  a  martyr  to  the  gout,  at* the 
house  of  a  friend^,  in  the  year  1764,  when  he  had 
nearly  arrived  at  the  age  of  61  years. 

From  this  digression,  if  it  may  be  called  one,  let 
us  return  to  what  introduced  it,  the  former  edition 
of  this  collection.  It  hath  been  customary  with 
those  who  have  given  new  editions  of  works  which 
have  exercised  the  abilities  of  other  persons,  to  be 
very  diffuse  in  pointing  out  the  defects  of  their 
predecessors,  and  to  dwell  with  great  satisfaction 
on  mistakes,  which  the  most  careful  editors  cannot 
avoid  faUing  into.  This  practice  is  the  more  to  be 
condemned,  as  every  person  who  has  had  any 
concern  in  undertakings  of  this  kind,  must  be  con- 
vinced of  the  fallibility  of  all  claims  to  unerring 
perfection.  When  Mr.  Dodsley  undertook  the 
present  publication, the  duties  of  an  editor  of  English 
works  were  not  so  well  understood  as  they  have 
been  since.  The  collation  of  copies  had  not  at 
^  Mr.  Speiice,  at  Durham . 


XX  MR.  reed's  preface. 


that  time  been  practised  in  any  case  that  the  editor 
is  informed  of  (for  it  is  certain  neither  Theobald, 
nor  any  other  editor  of  Shakespeare,  nor  either  of 
the  gentlemen  who  had  published  Chaucer  or 
Spenser,  had  any  claim  to  praise  on  this  account), 
and  a  knowledge  of  the  writings  of  contemporary 
authors  was  still  less  deemed  necessary.  In  con- 
sequence of  these  false  ideas  of  the  requisites  which 
an  editor  ought  to  possess,  there  are  some  imper- 
fections in  the  former  edition,  which  would  have 
been  avoided  had  the  same  person  lived  to  super- 
intend a  repubhcation  of  his  work.  One  of  these 
faults  arose  from  his  reliance  on  the  first  copy  of  a 
play,  sometimes  the  most  erroneous  one,  which 
chance  put  into  his  hand  ;  but  the  most  material 
was  from  his  want  of  acquaintance  with  the  litera- 
ture of -the  last  century.  This  latter  circumstance 
occasioned  many  words  and  phrases  which  were 
obscure,  or  not  understood,  to  be  changed  for 
others  more  familiar  and  intelligible.  As  fidelity  in 
publishing  any  author  is  an  indispensable  quality  in 
an  editor,  the  liberty  which  Mr.  Dodsley  ventured 
upon  is  certainly  not  to  be  defended  or  excused. 
His  several  innovations  have  therefore  been  silently 
removed,  without  burthening  the  page  with  an 
unnecessary  note,  except  where  the  words  restored 
required  an  explanation.  The  different  copies  by 
which  the  present  edition  has  been  collated,  are  set 
down  at  the  end  of  each  play. 


MR.  REEDS  PREFACE.  XXI 


In  printing  the  text,  the  Editor  hath  been 
careful  not  to  fall  into  the  error  of  his  predecessor, 
and  therefore  hath  scarcely  ever  indulged  himself 
in  alterations  from  conjecture.  The  many  experi- 
ments of  this  kind  which  were  made  by  the  first 
editors  of  Shakespeare  and  other  writers,  and  (he 
futility  of  them  all,  as  hath  appeared  from  the 
enquiries  of  later  commentators,  have  sufficiently 
convinced  him  that  such  a  mode  of  getting  rid  of 
the  difficulties  which  occur  in  ancient  writers,  is 
more  calculated  to  shew  the  boldness  of  the  critic, 
than  to  give  credit  to  his  knowledge,  either  of  the 
authors,  or  the  habits,  fashions,  humours,  or  customs, 
of  former  times.  He  hath,  therefore,  in  not  more 
than  two  or  three  instances,  departed  from  the 
text,  and  never  without  noting  the  variation,  that  no 
one  who  may  choose  the  rejected  words,  or  is  able 
to  explain  them  to  his  satisfaction,  may  be  obliged 
to  quit  the  old  copies,  if  they  shall  be  deemed 
intitled  to  a  preference. 

In  commenting  on  the  several  plays,  the  Editor 
hath  generally  had  recourse  to  contemporary 
writers,  for  the  explanations  of  words  or  phrases 
which  are  peculiar  to  the  times  ;  and  the  same 
practice  hath  been  observed  in  elucidating  the 
particular  customs  which  are  referred  to  in  the 
several  volumes^  In  the  course  of  these  remarks, 
the  reader  will  see  how  much  the  present  collection 
hath  been  indebted  to  the  late  edition  of  Shake- 


XXll  MR.  REED  S  PREFACE. 


speare.     As  it  cannot  be  expected  that  many  will 
become  purchasers  of  these  volumes  who   are  not 
possessed  of  that   work,   it   hath    generally  been 
referred  to  in  the  course  of  the  several  notes.     It 
would  be  some  satisfaction  to   the  Editor,  if  he 
could  say,  that  all  the  obscurities  which  are  to   be 
found  were  completely  explained;  and  he  is  sorry 
to  acknowledge,  that  several  remain  unattempted. 
They  are,  however,  not  very  numerous,  and  will, 
he  thinks,  be  entitled  to  the  pardon  of  every  candid 
reader.     To  throw  light  on  every  difficult  passage 
in   such  a   work   as   the    present,    requires    more 
reading  than  can  be  expected  from  any  one  person. 
It  was  very  soon  after  this  collection  went  to  the 
press,  that  the  Editor  became  convinced  how  im- 
perfectly the    task    which  he    had    entered    upon 
would  be  performed,  if  he  was  to  depend  entirely 
on  his  own  endeavours  ;  and,  very  fortunately,  that 
aid  which  he  wished  for  was  offered  him,  in  the 
politest  manner,  by  a  gentleman  to  whom  he  is 
under  many  great  obligations,  besides  his  commu- 
nications to  this  work.     When  it  is  known,  that  to 
him  the  public  are  indebted  for  all  the  notes  signed 
with  the  letter  S,  the  reader  will  regret  that  there 
are  not  a  greater  proportion  of  the  whole  number 
under  that  signature.     From  another  gentleman, 
whose  knowledge  in  antiquarian  subjects  the  world 
hath  been  long  acquainted  with,  the  notes  marked 
S.  P.  were  received ;  and  those  which  have  the 


MR.   REED  S  PREFACE.  xxiii 


letter  N  annexed  to  them,  are  such  observations  as 
occurred  to  the  printer  of  the  first  six  volumes,  in 
reading  the  proof  sheets.  To  all  these  gentlemen 
the  editor  esteems  himself  much  indebted  for  their 
kindness  and  attention.  From  them  arises  the 
principal  assistance  he  hath  to  boast  of.  A  very 
few  notes  marked  with  different  letters  he  was 
favoured  with  bv  other  friends,  to  whom  he  bears 
here  to  make  his  acknowledgments.  And  he  hath 
man}^  reasons  to  flatter  himself,  that  the  commen- 
tary would  have  been  much  enlarged  from  other 
quarters,  if  a  diffidence  of  his  abilities  for  ihe  under- 
taking had  not  deterred  him  from  solicitation. 

There  are  two  alterations  in  the  present  edition 
from  the  former,  which  he  believes  wiU  need  no 
apology.  These  are,  the  arrangement  of  the  plays, 
now  changed  according  to  the  chronological  order 
in  which  they  were  published,  and  the  removal  of 
some,  which  were  formerly  printed,  for  others 
which  seem  to  have  a  fairer  claim  to  being  pre- 
served. Some  of  these  rejected  pieces  have  been 
lately  published  in  a  complete  edition  of  one  author; 
and  the  others  are  such  as  have  been  thrown  out 
by  the  advice  of  a  gentleman  whose  sentiments 
concerning  them  must  be  confirmed  by  every  one 
who  will  afford  them  a  perusal  *. 

*  The  followiug-  is  a  list  of  the  rejected  plays : 

1  Mustapha,  by  Lord  Brooke. 

2  The  Shepherd's  Holiday,  by  Joseph  Rutter. 


XXvi  MR.  RE£D*S  PREFACE. 


received  in  the  course  of  this  work,  he  hath  no 
expectation  or  wish  for  fame,  on  account  of  his 
concern  in  it.  The  employment  hath  been  a  very 
agreeable  one  to  him.  It  hath  soothed  many  an 
hour  when  depressed  by  sickness  and  pain  ;  and 
hath  contributed,  in  some  measure,  to  the  happi- 
ness of  his  life,  by  the  opportunity  which  he  hath 
by  means  of  it  enjoyed  of  becoming  known  to 
several  gentlemen,  whose  friendship  and  acquaint- 
ance he  esteems  highly  honourable  to  him.  To 
those  who  may  be  dissatisfied  with  the  manner  in 
which  this  work  is  conducted,  he  can  only  say,  that 
the  undertaking  appeared  to  him  much  easier  be- 
fore he  engaged  in  it,  than  he  found  afterwards  in 
its  progress  through  the  press.  He  might  safely 
rely  on  the  candour  of  those  who  have  experienced 
the  trouble  and  difficulty  attending  such  perform- 
ances as  the  present;  and  to  those  who  have  not, 
could  wish  to  address  himself  in  the  words  of  one 
who  had,  says  the  gentleman  who  quotes  him,  long 
laboured  in  the  province  of  editorial  drudgery  ; 
and  who  thus  appeals  to  the  judgment  and  bene- 
volence of  the  reader:  "  If  thou  ever  wert  an 
'*  editor  of  such  books,  thou  wilt  have  some  com- 
•'  passion  on  my  failings,  being  sensible  of  the  toil 
**  of  such  sort  of  creatures ;  and,  if  thou  art  not 
**  yet  an  editor,  I  beg  truce  of  thee  till  thou  art 
*'  one  before  thou  censurest  my  endeavours." 


DEDICATION 


THE   FIRST    EDITION, 


to  sir  clement  cotterel  dormer,  knight. 

Sir, 
If  there  be  anything  in  this  Collection  worthy  of 
being  preserved  it  is  to  you  the  public  is  indebted 
for  the  benefit.     Your  obliging  readiness  to  com- 
municate the  stores  of  which  you  were  possessed, 
encouraged   me  to  undertake   the   design,    which 
otherwise  I  should  have  despaired  of  prosecuting 
with  success.     Under  the  sanction  of  your  name, 
therefore,    I  beg  leave   to  shelter  the  remains  of 
these  old  dramatic   writers,  which  but   for   your 
generosity  had  fallen  with  their  authors  into  utter 
oblivion.     To  your  candour  I  submit  the  pains  I 
have  taken  to  give  a  tolerably  correct  edition  of 
them,  and  am  with  great  respect, 
Sir, 
Your  most  obliged, 
and  obedient 

humble  Servant, 

R.  DODSLEY. 


PREFACE 


THE    FIRST    EDITION. 


When  I  first  conceived  the  design  of  collecting 
together  the  best  and  scarcest  of  our  old  Plays,  I 
had  no  intention  to  do  more  than  search  out  the 
several  authors,  select  what  was  good  from  each, 
and  give  as  correct  an  edition  of  them  as  1  could. 
This  I  thought  would  at  once  serve  as  a  specimen 
of  the  different  merits  of  the  writers,  and  shew  the 
himiours  and  manners  of  the  times  in  which  they 
lived.  But  as  the  public  has  been  so  kind  to 
favour  me  with  much  greater  encouragement  than 
I  expected,  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  omit  nothing 
that  might  conduce  either  to  the  greater  perfection 
of  the  work,  or  their  better  entertainment.  It  was 
this  consideration  which  led  me  to  think  of  prefix- 
ing to  each  Play,  where  any  materids  were  to  be 
had,  a  brief  account  of  the  life  and  writings  of  its 

'  The  Notes  to  this  Preface  signed  D,  are  those  originally 
added  to  it  by  Mr.  Dodsley ;  those  subscribed  I.  R.  are  by 
thelr.te  Mr.  Reed;  and  the  remainder  with  the  initial  C. 
are  by  the  present  Editor. 


XXX  MR.  dodsley's  preface. 

author ;  and  also,  by  way  of  Preface,  a  short  his- 
torical essay  on  the  rise  and  progress  of  the  EngHsh 
stage,  from  its  earliest  beginnings;  to  the  death  of 
king  Charles  the  First,  when  play-houses  were 
suppressed.  But  in  the  prosecution  of  both  these 
designs  I  have  been  so  crossed  with  a  want  of  ma- 
terials, that  I  am  afraid  what  I  intended  should 
merit  thanks,  must  barely  hope  for  pardon. 

Before  I  proceed  to  my  principal  design,  it  may 
not  be  unentertaining  to  the  reader  just  to  take  a 
view  of  the  great  similarity  that  appears  in  the  rise 
and  progress  of  the  modern  stage  in  all  the  prin- 
cipal countries  of  Europe. 

ITALIAN  THEATRE. 

The  Italian  is  perhaps  the  earliest  of  the  modern 
theatres  ;  nay,  they  pretend  it  was  never  entirely 
silent  from  the  imperial  times.  But  though  there 
might  be  some  insipid  buffooneries  performed  by 
idle  people  strolling  about  from  town  to  town,  and 
acting  in  open  and  public  places  to  the  mob  they 
gathered  round  them ;  yet  they  had  no  poetry  till 
the  time  of  the  Provencals^,  nor  any  thing  like  a 

fi  Bouche,  in  his  History  of  Provence,  says,  the  Piovenfal 
poets  beo^an  to  be  esteemed  throuf,diout  Europe  in  the 
twelfth  century,  and  were  at  the  hei>^ht  of  their  credit 
about  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth.  Tlieir  poetry  consisted 
of  Pastorals,  Son^-s,  Sonnets,  Syrvenlts  and  Tensons,  i  e. 
Satires  and  Love-disputes      And  in  the  list  of  their  poets 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PRRFACL.  XXXl 


theatre,  till  they  began  to  exhibit  the  Mysteries  of 
Religion.  And  these,  as  is  affirmed  by  Octavio 
PanciroHi,  in  his  Tesoro  Nascosto  di  Roma,  begun 
but  with  the  establishment  of  the  fraternity  del 
Gonfalone  in  the  year  1264 :  from  the  statutes  of 
which  company  he  quotes  the  following  paragraph : 
'  The  principal  design  of  our  fraternity,  being  to 
'  represent  the  passion  of  Jfesus  Christ;  we  ordain, 
'  that  when  the  mysteries  of  the  said  passion  are 
'  represented,  our  ancient  orders  be  ever  observed  ; 
*  together  v  ith  what  shall  be  prescribed  by  the 
'  general  congregation.'  But  Crescimbeni,  in  his 
History  of  Poetry,  says,  the  first  piece  of  this  na- 
ture was  written  by  Francis  Beliari  on  the  story  of 
Abraham  and  Isaac  ;  and  acted  at  Florence,  in  the 
church  of  St.  Mary  Magdalen,  about  1449;  and 
that  about  the  same  time,  or  soon  after,  the  His- 
tory of  Christ's  Passion  was  first  represented  in  the 

are  found  persons  of  the  first  dionlty;  in  particular  the 
Emperor  Frederick  the  First,  a;id  our  Kino^  Richard,  sur- 
nanied  Coeur  de  Lion.  This  poetry  received  its  fatal  stroke 
in  the  death  of  Joan  the  First,  Queen  of  Naples,  and  Coun- 
tess of  Provence;  for  neither  Lewis  the  First,  her  adopted 
son,  nor  Lewis  the  Second,  his  successor,  shewed  any  re- 
gard to  it.  Lejin  de  celte  po'esie  Jut  le  coynmencement  de  celle 
des  lialieris  ;  for  all  there  before  Danl^  were  rather  rhimers 
than  poets :  he  and  Petrarch  were  les  deux  vraues  fonlaines 
de  la  po'esie  Itallienne ;  mais  fonlaines,  qui  prirent  lears  sources 
dims  la  pocsit  Proven^nlr.      Pasqi^ier  Rech.  fiOfn     D. 


xxxii  MR.  dodsley's  preface. 


Coliseum  at  Rome.     These  two  accounts  I  leave 
to  be  adjusted  by  the  critics. 

SPANISH  THEATRE. 

The  Spanish  Theatre  boasts  great  antiquity; 
but  it  is  difficult  to  fix  its  precise  aera.  Their  first 
theatrical  pieces  were  small  fiarces  of  one  Act 
called  Eutermises,  or  Jordafias,  which  they  per- 
formed in  thorough-fares,  or  the  most  public  places 
of  the  towns.  The  action  of  the  piece  turned  upon 
some  subject  of  ridiculous  and  low  life ;  which 
being  heightened  with  strokes  of  wit  and  satire, 
and  performed  with  antic  gestures,  made  an  enter- 
tainment not  much  unlike  the  Latin  Mimes.  To 
these  succeeded  what  they  called  the  Autos  Sacra- 
mentales;  being  indeed  mysteries,  but  more  artifi- 
cial than  those  of  the  rest  of  Europe,  which  were 
simple  representations,  while  these  were  always 
allegorical.  There  are  prodigious  numbers  of 
them  in  Spain,  but  those  of  Calderon  are  reckoned 
the  best.* 

*  So  strong-  a  resemblance  exists  in  many  points  between 
the  origin,  progress,  and  perfection  of  the  English  and 
Spanish  stages,  that  it  has  been  thought  fit  to  subjoin  a 
fuller  account,  of  the  latter,  drawn  from  the  best  sources. 

C. 

Luzan,  the  author  of  the  Poetica,  a  work  of  much  au- 
thority in  Spain,  refers  to  the  Leycs  de  lapartida  dc  A/onzo, 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  xxxiii 


FRENCH  THEATRE. 

The   French   pretend  to  draw   the    original  of 
their  drama  from  the  Provencal  poets  in  the  thir- 

to  prove  that  dramatic  representations  commenced  in  Spain 
in  the  middle  of  the  13th  century:  one  law  expressly  com- 
mands that  tlie  cleri^-y  shall  not  act  juegos  de  escamios  (plays 
of  scoffing- or  ridicule)  but  permits  them  torepresent  mysteries 
of  the  birth,  passion,  and  resurrection  of  Christ :  it  also  ex- 
pressly forbids  the  use  of  the  religious  habit  in  the  former. 
Hence  it  is  deduced  that  both  relii^ious  and  profane  dramatic 
representations  v.ere  then  exhibited,  and  it  has  been  also 
asserted  that  actors  by  profession  were  known  at  the  same 
time.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  acting-  mysteries  formed 
part  of  the  education  of  the  ecclesiastics  in  the  monasteries 
even  to  a  comparatively  late  date.  Bias  Nasarre,  the 
recent  Editor  of  the  Plays  of  Cervantes,  states  that  it  was 
the  custom  of  the  pilgrims  of  that  a^^e  to  act  mysteries  in 
the  market  places  and  even  in  the  churches.  The  Aulos 
SacramenldUs  had  their  origin  in  these  Spanish  mysteries 
wliich  like  our  own  were  filled  with  absurd  allegories,  and 
personitications,and  the  grossest  anachronisms.  The  jesters 
and  buffoons  of  that  time  were  called  Zahorroncs  and  Ileme- 
dadores,  and  were  made  infamous  by  the  law  of  Alonzo  the 
Wise  :  the  Mayas  and  DiahliUos  (little  devils)  were  not 
aljrowed  to  cross  the  threshold  of  a  church.  The  Court 
of  Arragon  began  to  patronize  and  cultivate  poetry 
under  the  name  of  la  gaya  cimcia,  towards  the  end  of 
the  1 4th  century ;  and  the  dramatic  part  of  it  con- 
sisted of  dialogues  and  fancies  of  various  kinds.  The 
colleges  at  Toulouse  and  Barcelona,  for  the  cultivation  of 
poetry,  were  reformed  and  perfected  by  Don  John  I.,  Don 

d 


XXXIV  MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE. 


teenth  century.  I  suppose  because  one  Nouez, 
who  died  in  the  year  1220,  is  mentioned  by  Nos- 

Martin,  and  Don  Ferdinand  the  Honest,  and  the  monarchs 
themselves  assisted  in  the  representation  of  what  were 
termed  Ditados,  Trohas,  and  Dialogos  -.  John  I.  brought  from 
Provence  for  this  purpose,  the  most  celebrated  poets,  players, 
and  dancers.  After  the  college  of  the  Troubadours  was  re- 
moved to  Castille  the  dramatic  art  seems  for  some  time  to 
have  remained  stationary.  Cervantes,  in  the  preface  to  his 
plays,  claims  to  be  the  first  who  personified  the  passions  on 
the  stage  ;  but  this  pretension  seems  hardly  consistent  with 
the  accounts  of  the  Chroniclers  and  with  what  is  known  of 
the  productions  of  Juan  de  E?icina,  who  flourished  circa 
1480.  The  production  about  the  year  1400,  of  a  pastoral 
called  Mingo  Rebulgo,  attributed  to  Rodrigo  de  Cota,  is  con- 
sidered an  epoch  in  the  history  of  Spanish  dramatic  poetry: 
he  also  wrote  a  piece  in  no  less  than  twenty-one  Acts  en- 
titled Calisius  and  Melilxa,  which  probably,  therefore,  was 
never  represented,  and  of  which  many  imitations  were 
published.  Lope  de  Rueda,  a  native  of  Seville  and  et 
famous  actor,  is  deemed  the  first  who  by  his  writings  gave 
a  distinguishing  character  to  Spanish  Comedy.  Cervantes 
(Preface  to  his  Plays)  gives  a  curious  account  of  the  pro- 
perties of  a  theatre  l)efore  tlie  time  of  Rueda :  "  all  the 
**  furniture  and  utensils  of  the  actors  were  contained  in  one 
*'  sack,  consisting  of  four  beards  and  perriwigs,  and  four 
**  pastoral  crooks."  He  also  mentions  that  he  was  the  first 
to  divide  plays  into  three  acts,  but  Lope  de  Vega  in  his  Arte 
de  hacer  Comedias,  assigns  this  merit  to  an  earlier  author 
of  the  name  of  Virues  :  others  attribute  the  invention  to 
Nabarro.  From  this  date  the  Spanish  stage  was  inundated 
with  plays  divided  into  Jornadas  or  acts,  and*  Moiitalban 
says,  that  Lope  de  Vega  himself  wrote  1800  of  them. 

2 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  xxxlv 


tradamus  as  a  good  actor.  This  man,  by  going 
about  to  the  houses  of  the  nobility,  singing,  danc- 
ing, and  making  faces,  gained  not  only  a  good 
livehhood,  but  much  applause.  He  had,  they  tell 
us,  the  art  of  speaking  either  in  a  man's  or  woman's 
key,  and  by  changing  his  accent,  gesture,  and 
countenance  at  pleasure,  could  himself  personate 
two  actors.  These  kinds  of  extempore  farces,  or 
dialogues,  continued  till  they  were  displaced  by 
the  exhibition  of  the  mysteries.  The  first,  of 
which  we  have  any  account,  was  the  mystery  of 
the  Passion,    represented  at  St.  Maur's  in  1398. 

Luzan  separates  the  history  of  the  Spanish  stao^e  into  the 
four  following-  epochs.  1.  The  ancient  cancio?ies,  villanescas, 
and  diniogos,  which  during  the  14th  century,  were  sung  and 
acted  by  the  authors,  or  by  public  jesters  or  players  :  no 
material  change  occurred  until  the  commencement  of  the 
l6th  century.  2.  Pastorals  and  humorous  colloquies  in 
which  Lope  de  Rueda  gained  such  reputation,  and  which 
he  himself  improved :   these  continued  for  about  50  years. 

3.  Farces  and  pieces  of  comedy  in  tliree  acts,  invented  by 
Virues,  Cervantes,  or  Nabarro,  and  for  writing  which  Juan  de 
la  Cueva  was  also  celebrated :  this  species  of  entertain- 
ment was  preserved  until  tlie  close  of  the  1 6th  century. 

4.  The  perfection  of  the  Spanish  Drama  in  the  latter  end 
of  the  ItJth  and  beginning  of  the  17th  century,  after  Lope 
de  Vega  had  produced  his  Jacinlo,  followed  by  the  plays  of 
Calderon  and  others. 

It  is  evident  that  Luzan  in  this  division  does  not  profess 
to  go  so  far  back  as  the  age  of  mysteries,  which  preceded 
the  cancioncs.  villatiescas,  and  dialogos  of  which  he  first  speaks. 


XXXVl      MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE. 


But  the  French  Theatre,  though  it  got  as  early  rid 
of  these  barbarities  as  any  other,  yet  continued 
long  very  rude  and  imperfect,  and  destitute  of  all 
good  comedy  till  the  time  of  Corneille  and  Moliere ; 
the  former  born  in  1606  ^  the  latter  in  1621  \ 

DUTCH  THEATRE. 

The  Dutch  Theatre  had  its  original  from  what 
they  call  in  that  country  Reden  Rychkers  Kameran, 
that  is,  companies  or  societies  of  rhetoricians  and 
poets,  not  unlike  the  academies  in  Italy.  The 
members  of  these  societies  were  the  wits  of  the 
place,  who,  when  any  one  was  married,  buried, 
preferred  to  an  office,  &c.  were  applied  to  for 
epithalamiums,  elegies,  or  panegyric.  They  also 
composed  theatrical  pieces,  which  they  acted  in 
the  society-room;  from  whence  these  old  pieces 
are  called  Society  Plays,  as  those  of  Italy  were 
called  i\cademy  Plays.  Sometimes  the  Reden 
Rychkers,  or  poets  of  one  village,  went  to  perform 
their  pieces  at  fair  times  in  another ;  which,  in  its 
turn,  gave  the  first  its  revenge.  Sometimes 
again,  the  poets  of  one  village  disputed  the  prize 
of  wit  with  the  poets  of  another,  in  extempore 
pieces.  These  kinds  of  entertainments,  if  they 
can  be  properly  called  theatrical,  are  said  to  be  as 
old  as  the  Provinces  themselves ;  but  the  most 
eminent  piece  of  their  more  reformed  theatre  is, 
7  He  died  1684.  ^  He  died  1673. 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  xxxvii 


De  Spiegel  der  Miiine,  the  Mirror  of  Love  ;  written 
by  Colin  Van  Ryssele,  and  printed  at  Haerlen  in 
1561.  The  Dutch,  like  all  other  theatres  in  their 
state  of  ignorance,  had  a  great  passion  for  the 
marvellous.  In  one  of  their  old  tragedies  a  prin- 
cess has  her  lover's  head  before  her  on  a  plate :  to 
this  she  sits  down  and  addresses  herself,  and  re- 
ceives as  pertinent  answers  as  if  it  had  been  still 
upon  his  shoulders.  But  the  Dutch  Theatre  is 
now  more  refined;  and  these  extravagances  are 
seldom  represented  but  on  some  state-holiday,  to 
please  the  common  people. 

GERMAN  THEATRE. 

The  Germans  deduce  the  first  rise  of  their 
theatre  from  the  ancient  bards^  who  used  to  sing 
the  eulogies  of  their  heroes ;  and  1  believe  with 
just  as  much  truth  as  the  French  do  theirs  from 
the  Provengals.  To  these  bards,  they  tell  us,  suc- 
ceeded their  Master  Sanger,  that  is,  Master 
Singers ;  who  formed  themselves  into  societies  in 
all  the  principal  cities  of  Germany^  One  of  these 
merry  societies  is  actually  subsisting  at  Strasburg 
to  this  day,  composed  of  shoemakers,  tailors, 
weavers,  millers,  &c.  who  enjoy  certain  privileges, 
which  they  pretend  were  granted  them  by  Otho 
the  Great  and  Maximilian  the  First :  but  neither 
did  these  attempt  any  thing  dramatic  till  after  the 


SXXVm     MR.  DODSLEY'S  PREFACE. 


fifteenth  century  *.     About  the  middle  of  the  six- 
teenth,   a    shoe-maker    at    Nuremburgh,    named 
Haanssacks,  composed  many  dramatic  pieces,  both 
sacred  and  profane.     Amongst  the  first  are  Adam 
and   Eve,  Jacob   «od   EsaUy  Esther,  lobias,  Job, 
Judith,  the  Prodigal  Son,  and  others  ;  among  the 
latter  are,  Jocasta, Charon,  Griselda,  the  Judgment 
of  Paris,  and  many  others.     And  this  shoe-maker 
is  now  in  as  much  honour  amongst  them  for  his 
Mysteries  in  Poetry,  as  Jacob  Behman,  another  of 
the  same  craft,  for  his  Mysteries  in  Divinity.     But 
all  these  were  very  rude  imperfect  pieces  ;  nor  did 
the  German  1  heatre  arrive  to  any  tolerable  per- 
fection till  after  the  year  162(3,  when  a  company  of 
Dutch  players  went  to  Hambourg,  and,  by  exhibit- 
ing some  pieces  of  a  more  perfect  kind,  led  them 
to  a  better  taste.     It  is  not  forty  years  since  the 
Mystery  of  the  Passion  was  exhibited  at  Vienna. 
It  consisted  of  five  Acts,  and  represented  in  order 
the  Terrestrial   Paradise  ;    the   Creation  of  Adam 
and  Eve,  their  Fall;  the  Death  of  Abel;  Moses 
in  the  Desert ;  the  Travels  of  Joseph,  Mary,  and 

*  Dr.  Percy  quotes  M.  PEnfant,  the  historian  of  the 
Council  of  Constance,  to  shew  that  the  English  were  the 
first  to  introduce  plays  into  Germany  in  1417;  the  Nativily 
of  the  Saviour,  having  been  represented  by  the  English 
fathers  before  the  Emperor  on  the  31st  of  January  in  that 
year.     C. 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  xxxix 


the  child  Jesus,  into  Egypt.  Jesus  was  repre- 
sented by  a  full-grown  lad ;  but  to  shew  that  he 
was  a  child,  they  fed  him  on  the  stage  with  spoon- 
meat.  Then  you  saw  him  disputing  with  the  Doc- 
tors in  the  Temple,  his  Prayer  in  the  Garden,  his 
Seizing,  his  Passion,  his  Death  on  the  Cross,  and 
his  Burial,  which  closed  the  representation.  Thus 
all  the  modern  theatres  in  Europe  began  with 
Singing,  Dancing,  and  extempore  Dialogues  or 
Farces ;  from  thence  they  proceeded  to  the  Mys- 
teries of  Religion ;  and  till  the  sixteenth  century 
none  of  them  attempted  to  exhibit  either  Tragedy 
or  Comedy. 

ENGLISH  THEATRE. 

I  come  now  particularly  to  consider  the  rise  and 
progress  of  the  English  stage,  which  was  the  prin- 
cipal design  of  this  Preface.  It  is  generally,  I 
believe,  imagined,  that  the  English  stage  rose  later 
than  the  rest  of  its  neighbours.  Those  in  this 
opinion  will,  perhaps,  wonder  to  be  told  of  theatri- 
cal entertainments  almost  as  early  as  the  Conquest ; 
and  yet  nothing  is  more  certain,  if  you  will  believe 
an  honest  monk,  one  William  Stephanides,  or 
Fitz- Stephen,  in  his  Descriptio  JSohilissimce  Civi- 
tatis  Londofiia,  who  writes  thus:  "  ^London,  in- 

^  Lundonia  pro  spectaculis  theatralibiis,  pro  hidis  sceni- 
cis,  ludos  hadet  sauctiores,  representationes  miraculorum, 
quae  sancti  confessores  operati  sunt,  seu  representationes 


xl  MR.  DODSLEY's  preface. 


•'  stead  of  common  interludes  belonging  to  the 
*'  theatre,  hath  plays  of  a  more  holy  subject ;  re- 
"  presentations  of  those  miracles  which  the  holy 
"  confessors  wrought,  or  of  the  sufferings  wherein 
"  the  glorious  constancy  of  the  martyrs  did  ap- 
"  pear."  This  author  was  a  monk  of  Canterbury, 
who  wrote  in  the  reign  of  Henry  II.  and  died  in 
that  of  Richard  I.  ]  191  :  and  as  he  does  not  men- 
tion these  representations  as  novelties  to  the 
people  f  for  he  is  describing  all  the  common  diver- 
sions in  use  at  that  time),  we  can  hardly  fix  them 
lower  than  the  Conquest  *.  And  this,  I  believe,  is 
an  earher  date  than  any  other  nation  of  Europe 
can  produce  for  their  theatrical  representations. 
About   140   years  after  this,  in  the  reign  of  Ed- 

passionum,  quilnis  claruit  constantia  martyrum.  The 
whole  piece  is  preserved  in  Stow,  and  is  very  curious.     D. 

This  curious  ancient  description  of  London  was  repub- 
lished with  Notes,  in  4to.  177-'.     I.  R. 

The  author  of  the  dissertation,  prefixed  to  the  edition  of 
1772,  conjectures  that  the  work  was  written  by  Fitzstephens, 
in  or  about  the  year  11 7 4,  and  at  all  events  before  1 182.  The 
whole  description  of  London  has  been  discovered  to  be  only 
part  of  a  larger  work,  the  Life  of  Thomas  h,  Becket.     C. 

*  Dr.  Percy,  in  his  Essay  on  the  origin  of  the  English 
stage,  establishes  from  Matthew  of  Paris,  that  the  Miracle 
Play  of  Si.  Catherine,  was  acted  in  the  year  1110.  It  was 
written  by  Geoffrey,  Abbot  of  St.  Albans,  a  Norman. 
Matthew  of  Paris  calls  it  quendam  ludum  de  Sancla  Kalerina, 
quern  Miracula  vulgariter  appellamus*     C. 


MR.  dodsley's  TREFACE.  xU 


ward  III.  it  was  ordained  by  Act  of  Parliament, 
that  a  compaDy  of  men  called  fagrants,  who  had 
made  masquerades  through  the  whole  city,  should 
be  whipt  out  of  London,  because  they  represented 
scandalous  things  in  the  little  alehouses,  and  other 
places  where  the   populace  assembled.     What  the 
nature  of  these  scandalous  things  were,  we  are  not 
told ;  whether  lewd  and  obscene,  or  impious   and 
profane  :  but  I  should  rather  think  the  former,  for 
the  word    Masquerades  has  an  ill    sound,  and,  I 
believe,  they  were  no  better  in  their  infancy  than 
at  present.     "I'is  true,  the   Mysteries  of  Religion 
were  soon  after  this  period  made  very  free  with  all 
over  Europe,  being  represented  in  so  stupid  and 
ridiculous  a  manner,  that  the   stories  of  the  New 
Testament  in  particular  were  thought  to  encourage 
libertinism  and  infidelity.     In  all  probability,  there- 
fore, the  actors  last  mentioned  were  of  that  species 
called  Mummers  'o ;  these  were  wont  to  stroll  about 
the  country  dressed  in  an   antic  manner,  dancing, 
mimicking,  and  shewing  postures.     This  custom  is 
still  continued  in  many  parts  of  England ;  but  it 
was  formerly  so  general,  and  drew  the  common 
people  so  much  from   their  business,  that  it  was 
deemed  a  very  pernicious  custom;   and   as  these 

'°  A  word  signifying  one  who  masks  and  disguises  himself 
to  play  the  fool,  without  speaking.  Hence,  perhaps,  comes 
our  country  word  Mum  ;  hold  your  tongue,  say  nothing.  D. 


xlii  MR.  dodsley's  preface. 


Mummers  always  went  masked  and  disguised,  they 
but  too  frequently  encouraged  themselves  to  com- 
mit violent  outrages,  and  were  guilty  of"  many 
lewd  disorders.  However,  as  bad  as  they  were, 
they  seem  to  be  the  true  original  comedians  of 
England;  and  their  excellence  altogether  consisted, 
as  that  of  their  successors  does  in  part  still,  in 
mimicry  and  humour. 

In  an  Act  of  ParUament  made  the  4th  year  of 
Henry  IV.  mention  is  made  of  certain  Wastorsj 
Master-Rimours,  Minstrels,  and  other  vagabonds, 
who  infested  the  land  of  Wales ;  y-Jnd  it  is  enacted> 
that  no  Master- Rimour,  Minstrel,  or  other  vaga- 
bond, be  in  any  wise  sustained  in  the  land  of  Wales , 
to  make  Commoiths  or  Gatherings  upon  the  people 
there.  What  these  Master-Rimours  were,  which 
were  so  troublesome  in  Wales  in  particular,  I 
cannot  tell ;  possibly  they  might  be  the  degenerate 
descendants  of  the  ancient  bards.  It  is  also  diffi- 
cult to  determine  what  is  meant  by  their  making 
Commoiths.  The  word  signifies  in  Welch,  any 
district,  or  part  of  a  hundred  or  cantred,  containing 
about  one  half  of  it ;  that  is,  50  villages  ;  and  might 
possibly  be  made  use  of  by  these  Master-Rimours 

^^  These  disorders  afterwards  so  much  increased,  that  iu 
the  third  year  of  Henry  VIII.  an  Act  was  made  ag-ainst 
Miunmers,  in  which  the  penalty  for  selling  visors,  or  keep- 
ing them  in  any  house,  was  20  shillings  each  visor.  Vide 
Statutes.     D. 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  xliii 


when  they  had  fixed  upon  a  place  to  act  in,  and 
gave  intimation  thereof  for  ten  or  twelve  miles 
round,  which  is  a  circuit  that  I  believe  will  take  in 
about  50  villages.  And  that  this  was  conimonly 
done,  appears  from  Carew's  Survey  of  Cornwall, 
which  w^as  wrote  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time*. 
Speaking  of  the  diversions  of  the  people,  "  The 
"  Guar]/- Miracle  (says  he),  in  English  a  Miracle- 
'*  Play,  is  a  kind  of  interlude  compiled  in  Cornish, 
*'  out  of  some  Scripture- History.  For  represent- 
'*  ing  it  they  raise  an  amphitheatre  in  some  open 
"  field,  having  the  diameter  of  his  inclosed  plain, 
"  some  40  or  50  foot.  The  country  people  flock 
"  from  all  sides  many  miles  ofi',  to  see  and  hear  it ; 
'*  for  they  have  therein  devils  and  devices  to  de- 
**  light  as  well  the  eye  as  the  ear."  Mr.  Carew 
has  not  been  so  exact  as  to  give  us  the  time  when 
these  Guari/- Miracles  were  exhibited  in  Cornwall; 
but,  by  the  manner  of  it,  the  custom  seems  to  be 
very  ancient. 

The  year  1378  is  the  earliest  date  I  can  find,  in 
which  express  mention  is  made  of  the  representa- 
tion of  mysteries  in  England.  In  this  year  the 
scholars  of  Paul's  school  presented  a  petition  to 
Richard  II.  praying  his  Majesty  **  to  prohibit  some 
"  unexpert  people  from  presenting  the  History  of 
"  the  Old  Testament,  to  the  great  prejudice  of  the 

*  And  printed  in  l602.     C. 


xliv  MR.  dodsley's  preface. 


"  said  clergy,  who  have  been  at  great  expeiice  in 
*'  order  to  represent  it  publicly  at  Christmas." 
About  twelve  years  afterwards,  viz.  in  1390,  the 
Parish-clerks  of  London  are  said  to  have  played 
interludes  at  Skinners  Well,  July  18,  19,  and  i20th. 
And  again,  in  1409,  the  tenth  year  of  Henry  IV. 
they  acted  at  Clerkenwell  (which  took  its  name 
from  this  custom  of  the  Parish-clerks  acting  plays 
there)  for  eight  days  successively,  a  play  concern- 
ing the  Creation  of  the  World,  at  which  were 
present  most  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  the 
kingdom.  These  instances  are  sufficient  to  prove 
that  we  had  the  mysteries  here  very  early,  though 
perhaps  not  so  soon  as  some  of  our  neighbours. 
How  long  they  continued  to  be  exhibited  amongst 
us,  cannot  be  exactly  determined.  This  period 
one  might  call  the  dead  sleep  of  the  Muses.  And 
when  this  was  over,  they  did  not  presently  awake, 
but,  in  a  kind  of  morning  dream,  produced  the 
Morcr/iVzes  that  followed*-  However,  these  jumbled 
ideas  had  some  shadow  of  a  meaning.  The  mys- 
teries only  represented,  in  a  senseless  manner, 
some  miraculous  History  from  the  Old  or  New 
Testament :  but  in  these   Moralities  something  of 

*  Mr.  Malone  is  of  opinion  in  liis  Historical  Account  of 
the  English  Stage,  that  the  earliest  Morality  was  not  produced 
before  1460.  They  did  not  however  by  any  means  super- 
sede Mysteries.     C. 


MR.  DODSLEY'S  preface.  xlv 


design  appeared,  a  fable  and  a  moral ;  something 
also  of  poetry,  the  virtues,  vices,  and  other  affec- 
tions of  the  mind  being  frequently   personified  ^^ 

^^  In  an  old  Morality,  entitled  All  for  Moneys  the  Persons 
of  the  Drama  are  : 
Theology.  Adulation. 

Science.  Mischievous  Help. 

Art.  Pleasure. 

Aloney.  Prestfor  Pleasure. 

Sin.  Gregory  Graceless. 

Swift  to  Sin.  Moneyless. 

Damnation.  IVilliam  with  the  two  Wives. 

Satan.  Nychol. 

Pride.  S.  I.av^rence. 

Gluttony.  Mother  Crooke. 

hearriing  with  Money.  Judas. 

Learning  without  Money,       Dives. 
Money  without  Learning.       Godly  Admonition. 
All  for  Money.  Virtue. 

NeitherMoney  norLearning.  Humility. 
Moneyless  and  Friendless.       Charity.         D. 

This  Play  was  written  by  Thomas  Lupton,  and  printed 
iu  4to.  B.  L,  1578.     I  R. 

At  this  date  Elizal)eth  had  reigned  20  years  ;  but  from 
the  subsequent  lines  in  the  Epilo<^ue,  it  may  perhaps  be  in- 
ferred, that  the  Morality  was  produced  earlier  in  her  reign, 
"  Let  us  praye  for  the  Queenes  Majestie,  our  soveraigne 
governour. 
That  she  may  raigne  quietly  according  to  Gods  will. 
Whereby  she  may  suppresse  vyce  and  set  foorth   Gods 

glorie  and  honour. 
And  as  she  hath  I'egon  godly,  so  to  continue  still. 


xlvi  MR.  dodsley's  prefac  e. 


But  the  Moralities  were  also  very  often  concerned 
wholly  in  religious  matters.  For  religion  then  was 
every  one's  concern,  and  it  was  no  wonder  if  each 
party  employed  all  arts  to  promote  it.  Had  they 
been  in  use  now,  they  would  doubtless  have  turned 
as  much  upon  politics.  Thus,  the  New  Custom, 
which  I  have  chosen  as  a  specimen  of  this  kind  of 
writing,  was  certainly  intended  to  promote  the 
Reformation,  when  it  was  revived  in  the  reign 
of  Queen  Elizabeth.  And  in  the  more  early 
days  of  the  Reformation,  it  was  so  common  for  the 
partizans  of  the  old  doctrines  (and  perhaps  also  of 
the  new)  to  defend  and  illustrate  their  tenets 
this  way,  that  in  the  24th  year  of  Henry  VIII. 
in  an  Act  of  Parliament  made  for  the  pro- 
moting true  reHgion,  I  find  a  clause  restraining 
all  rimors  or  players  from  singing  in  songs,  or 
playing  in  interludes,  any  thing  that  should  contra- 
dict the  established  doctrines.  It  was  also  cus- 
tomary at  this  time  to  act  these  moral  and  religious 
dramas  in  private  houses,  for  edification  and  im- 
provement, as  well  as  the  diversion  of  well-disposed 
families;  and  for  this  purpose,  the  appearance  of 
the  '^  Persons  of  the  Drama  was  so  disposed,  as 

The  title  is  curious,  in  as  much  as  it  states   that   the 
piece  was  written  '*  plainly  to  represent  the  manners  of 
'*  men,  and  fashion  of  the  world  now-a-days."     C. 
"  Vide  New  Custom,  vol.  I. 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  xlvii 


that  five    or   six    actors   might  represent   twenty 
personages. 

What  has  been  said  of  the  Mysteries  and  Mora- 
lities, it  is  hoped,  will  be  sufficient  just  to  shew  the 
reader  what  the  nature  of  them  was.  I  should  haye 
been  glad  to  be  more  particular ;  but  where  mate- 
rials are  not  to  be  had,  the  building  must  be 
deficient.  And,  to  say  the  truth,  a  more  particular 
knowledge  of  these  things,  any  farther  than  as  it 
serves  to  shew  the  turn  and  genius  of  our  ancestors, 
and  the  progressive  refinement  of  our  language, 
was  so  little  worth  preserving,  that  the  loss  of  it  is 
scarce  to  be  regretted.  I  proceed,  therefore,  with 
my  subject.  The  Muse  might  now  be  said  to  be 
just  awake,  when  she  began  to  trifle  in  the  old 
interludes,  and  aimed  at  something  like  wit  and 
humour.  And  for  these  '4  John  Heywood  the 
epigrammatist  undoubtedly  claims  the  earliest,  if 
not  the  foremost  place.  He  was  jester  to  king 
Henry  VIII.  but  lived  till  the  beginning  of  queen 
Elizabeth's  reign.  Gammer  Gurtoris  Needle, 
which  is  generally  called  our  first  comedy  *,  and 

**  What  the  nature  and  merit  of  his  interludes  were,  may 
be  guessed  by  the  specimen  I  have  preserved  of  them  in 
this  collection.  Tom  Tyler  and  hh  Wife,  The  Disohedient 
Child,  and  some  others  of  the  same  cast,  were  wrote  some- 
thing later,  but  not  at  all  better  than  Heywood,    D. 

*  The  word  comedy  was  very  indefinitely  employed  in 
the  early  age  of  the  British  Drama,  and  it  did  not  at  all 


xlviii  MR.  dodsley's  preface. 


not  undeservedly,  appeared  soon  after  the  inter- 
ludes :  it  is,  indeed,  altogether  of  a  comic  cast,  and 
wants  not  humour,  though  of  a  low  and  sordid 
kind.  And  now  dramatic  writers,  properly  so 
called,  began  to  appear,  and  turn  their  talents  to 
the  stage.  Henry  Parker,  son  of  Sir  William. 
Parker,  is  said  to  have  wrote  several  tragedies  and 
comedies  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  and  one 
John  Hoker,  in  1535,  wrote  a  comedy  called  Pis- 
cator,  or  the  Fisher  caught.  Mr.  Richard  Edwards, 
who  was  born  in  1523,  and  in  the  beginning  of 
queen  Elizabeth's  reign,  was  made  one  of  the  gen- 
tlemen of  her  majesty's  chapel,  and  master  of  the 

mean  wliat  we  now  understand  by  it.  Tragedy  was  even 
more  licentiously  used,  and  frequently  had  no  reference 
whatever  to  tlieatrical  representation.  Thus  Markham's 
Poem  on  the  death  of  Sir  Richard  Grenville,  is  called 
"  a  Tragedy." 

The  author  of  Bisloria  Histrionkn  calls  Gammer  Gurlon's 
Needle  the  first  production  in  English  "  that  looks  like  a 
*'  regular  comedy  ;"  but  he  was  not  acquainted  with  a 
piece,  the  name  of  which  only  was  until  lately  known — 
Ralph  Roister  Dvhter.  Although  the  title-page  of  the  unique 
copy  recently  discovered  is  lost,  yet  in  the  prologue  it  is 
termed  "  a  comedk,ov  enterlude  ;"  and  it  is  regularly  divided 
into  acts  and  scenes.  It  was  written  by  Nicholas  Udall,  many 
years  before  Gammer  Gur/on's  Needle:  he  died  in  all  proba- 
bility nine  years  before  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle  was 
represented.  See  a  note  to  vol.  II.  p.  3,  of  the  present 
edition  of  Dodsley's  Old  Plays.      C. 


MR.  DODSLEy'S  preface.  xlix 


children  there,  being-  both  an  excellent  musician 
and  a  good  poet,  wrote  two  comedies,  called  one 
Palcctnofi  and  Arcite,  in  which  a  cry  of  hounds  in 
huntinj^  was  so  well  imitated,  that  the  queen  and 
the  audience  were  extremely  delighted  :  the  other 
called  Damon  and  Pithias,  the  two  faithf idlest 
Friends  in  the  IVorhL  This  last  I  have  inserted. 
After  him  came  Thomas  Sackville,  Lord  Buck- 
hurst  and  Thomas  Norton  '^  the  writers  of  Gor- 
hoduc,^'  the  first  dramatic  piece  of  any  considera- 
tion in  the  English  lansfuasre.  Of  these  and  some 
others,  hear  the  judgement  of  Piittenham,  in  his 
Art  oj  Poetry,  wrote  in  the  reign  of  queen  Eliza- 
beth ;t  *'  I  think,"  says  he,  "  that  for  tragedy  the 

'*  Ferrex  and  Porrei,  here  called  Gorioduc,  \\as  pro])ably 
written  earlier  than  Damon  and  Pilhias.     I.  R. 

*  It  does  not  appear  where  nor  by  whom  Ralph  Rvisler 
Doisler  was  acted,  but  it  is  clear  that  neither  Gammer 
Gurtun^s  Needle  nor  Gurhuduc  were  represented  upon  public 
stages  ;  the  first  having-  been  played  at  Clirist's  Collef^e, 
Cambridge,  and  the  last  by  the  Students  of  the  Inner 
Temple.  In  this  view  the  Tragical  Comrdie  of  Ajnus  and 
Virginia,  as  well  as  in  others  pointed  out  in  the  introductory 
obsen^ations  to  it,  [See  Vol.  12,]  maybe  looked  upon  as 
curious.     C. 

t  Puttenham  (if  such  really  were  his  name),  printed  his 
anonymous  work  in  the  year  1589  :  an  excellent  reprint  of 
it  was  published  in  1811,  and  the  merits  of  the  work  are 
sufficiently  discussed  in  the  prefatory  matier.  Brathwaite 
borrowed  most  of  the  remarks  upon  English  poets  and 
poetry  in  his  E-glibh  Gtni/eman  from  Puttenham.     O. 

e 


I  MR.  DODSLEY'S  preface. 


'^  Lord  of  Biickhurst,  and  Maister  Edward  Ferrys, 
"  for  such  doings  as  I  have  seen  of  theirs,  do 
**  deserve  the  highest  price :  the  Earl  of  Oxford, 
'*  and  Maister  Edwards  of  her  majesty's  chapel, 
**  for  comedy  and  interlude."  And  in  another 
place  he  says — *'  But  the  principal  man  in  this 
'*  profession  (of  poetry)  at  the  same  time,  (viz. 
"  Edward  VI.)  was  Maister  Edward  Ferrys,  a 
*'  man  of  no  less  mirth  and  felicity  than  John 
*'  Hey  wood,  but  of  much  more  skill  and  magni- 
"  ficence  in  his  metre,  and  therefore  wrote  for  the 
**  most  part  to  the  stage  in  tragedy,  and  sometimes 
*'  in  comedy  or  interlude ;  wherein  he  gave  the 
"  king  so  much  good  recreation,  as  he  had  thereby 
*'  many  good  rewards."  Of  this  Edward  Ferrys, 
so  considerable  a  writer,  I  can  find  no  remains, 
nor  even  the  titles  of  any  thing  he  wrote.  After 
these  followed  John  Lillie,  famous  in  his  time  for 
wit,  and  for  having  greatly  improved  the  English 
language,  in  a  romance  which  he  wrote,  entitled, 
Euphues  and  his  England^^,  or  The  Anatomy  of 
Wit ;  of  which  it  is  said  by  the  ^7  publisher  of  his 
Plays,  "  Our  nation  are  in  his  debt  for  a  new 
"  English  which  he  taught  them,  Euphues  and  his 

^^  Lyly  published  *'  Euphues,  The  Anatomy  of  Wit, 
"  4to.  1581 ;"  and  "  Euphues  and  his  England,  4to.  1582.'* 
They  are  two  distinct  works.     I.  R. 

'^  Mr.  Blount,  who  published  six  of  his  Plays  in  the 
year  1032.    D. 


MR.  DODSLEY'S  PREFACE. 


"  England  began  first  that  language.  All  our 
**  ladies  were  then  his  scholars,  and  that  beauty  in 
*'  court  who  could  not  parle  Euphuism,  was  as 
*'  little  regarded  as  she  which  now  there  speaks  not 
'•  French."  This  extraordinary  romance,  so  famous 
for  its  wit,  so  fashionable  in  the  court  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  and  which  is  said  to  have  introduced  so 
remarkable  a  change  in  our  language,  I  have  seen 
and  read  18.     It  is  an  unnatural  affected  jargon,  in 

'*  A  few  sentences  from  it,  will  g-ive  a  taste  of  the  manner 
of  its  composition. 

"  There  must  in  every  trianf;le  be  three  lines;  the  first 
**  beg-inneth,  the  second  au<^menteth,  the  third  concludeth 
*'  it  a  figure :  so  in  love  three  virtues ;  affection,  which 
"  draweth  the  heart ;  secresy,  wliich  encreaseth  the  hopej 
"  constancy,  which  finisheth  the  work :  without  any  of 
"these  rules  there  can  be  no  triangle;  without  any  of 
*'  these  virtues,  no  love." 

Ag'ain,  **  Fire  cannot  be  hidden  in  the  flax  without 
"  smoke,  nor  musk  in  the  bosom  without  smell,  nor  love 
"  in  the  breast  without  suspicion." 

Once  more.  "  She  is  the  flower  of  courtesy,  the  picture 
*'  of  comeliness  ;  one  that  shameth  Venus,  being-  somewhat 
"  fairer,  and  much  more  virtuous ;  and  staineth  Diana, 
"  being  as  chaste,  but  much  more  amiable:  but  the  more 
*'  beauty  she  hath,  the  more  pride ;  and  the  more  virtue, 
**  the  more  preciseness.  The  peacock  is  a  bird  for  none 
"  but  Jimo ;  the  dove  for  none  but  Vesta;  none  must  wear 
**  Venus  in  a  table  but  Alexander;  none  Pallas  in  a  ring- 
**  but  Ulysses  :  for  as  there  is  but  one  phoenix  in  the  world, 
•*so  there  is  but   one  tree  in  Aral)ia  where  she  buildeth  ; 


lii  MR. 

which  the  perpetual  use  of  metaphors,  allusionSy 
allegories,  and  analogies,  is  to  pass  for  wit;  and 
stiff  bombast  for  language.  And  with  this  nonsense 
the  court  of  Queen  Elizabeth  (whose  times  afforded 
better  models  for  stile  and  composition,  than  almost 
any  since)  became  miserably  infected,  and  greatly 
helped  to  let  in  all  the  vile  pedantry  of  language  in 
the  following  reign.  So  much  mischief  the  most 
ridiculous  instrument  may  do,  when  he  proposes  to 
improve  upon  the  simpUcity  of  nature. 

Though  tragedy  and  comedy  began  now  to  lift 
up  their  heads,  yet  they  could  do  no  more  for 
some  time  than  bluster  and  quibble  ;  and  how 
imperfect  they  were  in  all  dramatic  art,  appears 
from  an  excellent  criticism  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney  ^^, 

"  and  as  there  is  but  one  Camilla  to  be  heard  of,  so  there  is 
"  but  one  Csesar  that  she  will  like  of."  His  Plays  are  of 
the  same  strain,  as  may  be  seen  by  that  I  have  preserred. 

D. 
^'■^  Our  tra^^edies  and  comedies,  says  he,  observe  rules 
neither  of  honest  civility,  nor  skilful  poetry.  Here  you 
shall  have  Asia  of  the  one  side,  and  Africk  of  the  other, 
and  so  many  other  under  kingdoms,  that  the  player  when 
he  comes  in  must  (^xer  begin  with  telling-  where  he  is,  or 
else  the  tale  will  not  be  conceived.  Now  you  shall  have 
three  ladies  walk  to  gather  flowers,  and  then  we  must  be- 
lieve the  stage  to  be  a  garden.  By  and  by  we  liear  news  of 
a  shipwreck  in  the  same  place,  then  we  are  to  blame  if  we 
accept  it  not  for  a  rock.  Upon  the  back  of  that  comes  out 
a  hideous  monster  with  fire  and  smoke,  and  then  the  mise- 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  liii 


on  the  writers  of  that  time.  Yet  they  seem  to 
have  had  a  disposition  to  do  better  had  they  known 
how,  as  appears  by  the  several  efforts  they  used  to 
lick  the  lump  into  a  shape:  for  some  of  their 
pieces  they  adorned  with  dumb  shews,  some  with 
choruses,  and  some  they  introduced  and  explained 
by  an  interlocutor.  Yet  imperfect  as  they  were, 
we  had  made  a  far  better  progress  at  this  time  than 
our  neighbours,  the  French :  the  Italians  indeed, 
by  early  translations  of  the  old  dramatic  writers, 
had  arrived  to  greater  perfection ;  but  we  were  at 
least  upon  a  footing  with  the  other  nations  of 
Europe. 

But  now,  as  it  were,  all  at  once  (as  it  happened 

rable  beholders  are  bound  to  take  it  for  a  cave :  while  in 
the  mean  time  two  armies  file  in,  represented  with  four 
swords  and  bucklers ;  and  then  what  hard  heart  will  not 
receive  it  for  a  pitched  field  ?  Now  of  time  they  are  much 
more  liberal.  For  ordinary  it  is  that  two  young-  princes  fall 
in  love,  after  many  traverses  she  is  got  with  child,  deli- 
vered of  a  fair  boy ;  he  is  lost,  groweth  a  man,  falleth  in 
love,  and  is  ready  to  get  another  child ;  and  all  this  in  two 
hours  space  :  which  how  absurd  it  is  in  sense,  even  sense 
may  imagine. — Defence  of  Poesy.     D. 

This  tract  was  first  published  in  1595,  under  the  title  of 
An  Apologie  for  Poetries  preceded  by  four  sonnets  by  Henry 
Constable  to  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  soul.  It  was  subsequently 
added  to  the  Arcadia  when  it  was  called  ''  A  Defence  of 
Poesie,"  and  Constable's  sonnets  were  omitted.  Sir  P. 
Sidney,  as  is  well  known,  was  killed  in  1586.    C. 


liv  MR.  DODSLEY'S  preface. 


in  France,  though  in  a  much  later  period)  the  true 
drama  received  birth  and  perfection  from  the  creative 
genius  of  Shakspeare,  Fletcher,  and  Jonson,  whose 
several  characters  are  so  well  known,  that  it  would 
be  superfluous  to  say  any  more  of  them. 

Having  thus  traced  the  dramatic  Muse  through 
all  her  characters  and  transformations,  till  she  had 
acquired  a  reasonable  figure,  let  us  now  return  and 
lake  a  more  particular  view  of  the  stage  and  actors. 
The  first  company  of  players  we  have  any  account 
of  in  history,  are  the  children  of  Paul's ""  in  13/8, 
mentioned  before  in  page  xliii.^  About  twelve 
years  afterwards  the  parish  clerks  of  London  are 
said  to  have  acted  the  Mysteries  at  Skinner's  Well. 
Which  of  these  two  companies  have  been  the 
earliest,  is  not  certain;  but  as  the  children  of  Paul's 

^  This  is  not  quite  accurate.  Mr.  Steevens  has  shewn 
from  the  unpublished  collections  of  Rymer,  now  in  the 
British  Museum,  that  a  patent  was  granted  four  years 
earlier;  viz.  in  1574,  to  James  Burbaoe,  John  Perkyn,  John 
Lanham,  William  Johnson,  and  Robert  Wilson,  servants  to 
the  earl  of  Leicester,  to  act  comedies,  tragedies,  enterludes, 
and  stage  plays,  during  pleasure. — Dr.  Johnson  and  Mr. 
Sleevens's  edition  of  Shakspeare,  1778,  vol.  I.  p.  \Q3.  I.R. 
*  Upon  this  point  Mr.  Malone  remarks  that  he  was 
**  unable  to  mark  the  time  when  the  profession  of  a 
player  became  common  and  established."  (Mai,  Sh.  edit, 
by  Bosw.  Ill  42.)  He,  however,  establishes  that  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  VH.  there  was  not  only  a  regular  troop  of 
players  in  London,  but  also  a  royal  company.     C 


MR.  DODSLEY'S  PREFACE.  Iv 


are  first  mentioned,  we  must  in  justice  give  the 
priority  to  them.  It  is  certain,  the  Mysteries  and 
Moralities  were  acted  by  these  two  societies  many 
years  before  any  other  regular  companies  appeared. 
And  the  children  of  Paul's  continued  to  act  long 
after  tragedies  and  comedies  came  in  vogue,  even 
till  the  year  ]618,  when  a  comedy  called  Jack 
Drums  Entertainment'^^  was  acted  by  them.  I 
believe  the  next  company  regularly  established  was, 
the  children  of  The  Royal  Chapel,  in  the  beginning 
of  queen  Elizabeth's  reign,  the  direction  of  which 
was  given  to  Mr.  Richard  Edwards  beforemen- 
tioned  :  and  some  few  years  afterwards,  as  the 
subjects  of  the  stage  became  more  gay  and  ludi- 
crous, a  company  was  formed  under  the  denomina- 
tion of  The  Children  of  the  Revels.  The  children  of 
the  Chapel  and  of  the  Revels  became  very  famous, 
and  all  LilUe's  Plays,  and  many  of  "^  Shakspeare's, 

2'  This  is  a  mistake ;  there  is  an  edition  of  this  play  printed 
in  ito.  1601,  from  which  that  of  IOI8  was  taken.      I.  R. 

The  edition  of  16 18  was  copied  from  that  of  1616,  for 
printers  did  not  much  care  to  consult  the  best  editions  and 
it  was  not  likely  that  they  should  oro  so  far  back  as  16OI ', 
besides,  there  is  internal  evidence  of  the  fact,  the  errors  of 
1616  being  incorporated  with  the  new  blunders  of  16I8. 
The  play  contains  an  eulogistic  criticism  upon  the  acting  of 
the  children  of  Paul's,  and  upon  the  genteelness  of  their 
audiences.     C. 

22  I  do  not  find  any  play  of  Shakspeare  acted  by  the 
Children  of  the  Revels.    I.  R. 

Dodsley  is  here  speaking  generally  of  the  three  compa- 


Ivi  MR.  dodsley's  preface. 


Jonsoii's,  and  others,  were  first  acted  by  them. 
Nay,  so  great  was  their  vogue  and  estimation,  that 
the  common  players,  as  may  be  gathered  from  a 
scene  in  Hamlet,  grew  jealous  of  them.  However, 
they  served  as  an  excellent  nursery  for  the  theatres, 
many  who  afterwards  became  approved  actors 
being  educated  among  them. 

It  is  surprising  to  consider  what  a  number  of 
playhouses  were  supported  in  London  about  this 
time.  From  the  year  15/0  to  the  year  1621),  when 
the  playhouse  in  White  Friers  was  finished,  no 
less  than  17  playhouses  had  been  built.  *  The 
names  of  most  of  them  I  have  collected  from  the 
Title-pages   of  Plays  ^\     And  as  the  theatres  were 

nies  of  the  children  of  St.  Paul's,  the  Chapel,  and  the  Revels, 
and  not  as  Mr.  Reed  concludes,  of  the  two  last  only,  as  is 
clear  from  what  he  observes  of  Lilly's  Plays,  for  at  least  six 
of  those  attributed  to  him  were  acted  by  the  Children  of 
Paul's.     C. 

*  Mr.  G.  Chalmers,  in  his  Supplemev I ai  Apology,  p.  186, 
states  that  "  in  1589  there  existed  in  and  about  London 
only  two  theatres — the  Theatre  and  the  Curtain.^'     C. 

®^  St.  Paul's  Singing-school,  The  Globe  on  the  Bankside, 
Southwark,  The  Swan  and  The  Hope  there.  The  Fort?tne  between 
Whitecross-street  and  Golding  Lane,  which  Maitland  tells  us 
was  the  first  playhouse  erected  in  London,  The  Red  Bull 
in  St.  Johns-street,  The  Cross  Keys  in  Grace-Church-strcet,  The 
Tuns,  The  Theater,  The  Curtain,  The  Nursery  in  Barbican,  one 
in  Black  Friers,  one  in  White  Friers,  one  in  ScUisbury-Court, 
and  the  Cockpit  and  the  Phoenix  in  Drury-Lane.     D. 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  Ivii 


so  numerous,  the  companies  of  players  were  in 
proportion.  Besides  the  Children  of  the  Chapel, 
and  of  the  Revels,  we  are  told  that  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, at  the  request  of  Sir  Francis  AYalsingham, 
established  in  handsome  salaries  twelve  of  the 
principal  players  of  that  time,  who  went  under  the 

In  the  above  enumeration,  !  suspect  there  are  two  play- 
houses which  are  mentioned  twice.     Those  in  JFIiile  Friers 
and  Salisbunj- Court  seem  to  be  one  and  the  same,  as  those 
called    The    Cock-Pit   and  The  Phcenix  certainly  are.     See 
Historia   llistiionica,  vol.  XII.  p.   341.     The  Curtain  was  in 
Shoreditch,  a  part  of  which  district  still  retains  the  name 
The    Curtain.     The  original  sign  hung  out  at  ibis  theatre 
was  the  painting  of  a  curtain  striped.     (See  first  volume  of 
Shakspeare,  edit.  1778.  vol.  I.  p.  267.   and  Sir  John  Haw- 
kins's History  of  Musick,  vol.  IV.  p.  67)     That  called  The 
Theatre,  I  imagine,  was  Black  Friers.     We  learn,  likewise, 
from  Prynne's  Histriomastix,  that    in  the  time   of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  there  were  two  other  playhouses,  the  one  called 
The  Be/l-Sauvage  (situated  very  probably  on  Ludgate-Hill), 
the  other  in  Bishopsgate-streetj   though  this  latter  might 
be  The  Curtain.     Taylor,  the  water  poet,   in  The  true  Cause 
of  the  fVatennan's  Suit  concerning  Players,   l6l3,    mentions 
another  theatre,  called  The  Rose.     I-  R. 

The  Rose  stood  on  the  Bankside,  and  by  the  discovery  of 
Philip  Henslowe's  accounts  in  IMS.  at  Dulwich  College, 
it  has  of  late  years  acquired  considerable  notoriety  Hen- 
slowe  was  the  proprietor  of  it.  Mr.  Malone  accuses  Dodsley 
of  falling  into  the  error  of  supposing  that  17  play  houses 
were  open  at  one  time,  but  his  words  do  not  quite  warrant 
such  a  conclusion  :  he  only  means  to  say,  on  the  authority 
of  the  pei"son  who  continued  Stowe's  Survey,  that  betweea 


Iviii  MR.  dodsley's  preface. 


name  of  her  Majesty's  Comedians  and  Servants. "" 
But  exclusive  of  these,  many'''  noblemen  retained 
companies  of  players,  who  acted  not  only  privately 

1570  and  1629,  no  less  than  17  play  houses  had  been  built: 
the  companies  (as  he  adds)  might  be  in  proportion  even 
though  they  did  not  all  exist  at  once.     C 

*  This  took  place  in  1583,  but  as  early  as  1574  she 
granted  a  licence  to  James  Burbage  and  four  others  to  ex- 
hibit stage  plays  of  any  kind  in  any  part  of  the  king- 
dom. 

**  Thus  Shakspeare's  Titus  Andronicus  was  acted  by  the 
Earls  of  Derby,  Pembroke,  and  Essex's  servants  ;  his  Romeo 
and  Juliet  in  1596,  which  some  say  was  his  first  play,  by 
Lord  Hunsdon's  servants  ;  and  his  Merrt/  Wives  of  Windsor 
in  1602,  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  [the  earl  of  Oxford's] 
servants.  The  earl  of  Nottingham,  Lord  High  Admiral, 
had  a  company  in  1594,  and  in  1599  Tho,  Pinner  of  Wake- 
field was  acted  by  the  earl  of  Sussex's  servants.  In  short, 
plays  were  acted  by  the  Lawyers  in  the  Inns  of  Court,  by 
the  Students  of  several  Halls  and  Colleges  in  the  Univer" 
gities,  and  even  by  London  Prentices :  so  that  now  the  say- 
jng  was  almost  literally  true,  Totus  Mundus  agit  HistriO' 
nemi    D. 

To  the  noblemen  abovementioned,  who  had  companies 
of  players  under  their  protection,  may  be  added  the  names 
of  The  Earl  of  Worcester  and  Jjord  Strange  ;  the  plays  of  How 
to  chuse  a  good  Wife  from  a  had,  4to,  l602,  being  acted  by  the 
servants  of  the  former^  and  Fair  Em,  the  Mil/er's  Daughter 
of  Manchester,  4to,  1631,  by  those  of  the  latter.  The  privi- 
lege which  the  nobility  claimed  of  protecting  players,  seems 
to  have  been  acknowledged  so  late  as  in  the  present  cen- 
tury.    Mrs.   Centlivre's  play  of  Love  at  a    Venture,  was 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  Hx 


I 


in  their  lords  bouses,  but  publicly  under  their 
licence  and  protection.  Agreeable  to  this  is  the 
account  which  Stow  gives  us  —  **  Players  in  former 
**  times,  says  he,  were  retainers  to  noblemen,  and 
"  none  had  the  privilege  to  act  plays  but  such.  So 
**  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time,  many  of  the  nobility 
*'  had  servants  and  retainers  who  were  players,  and 
*'  went  about  getting  their  livelihood  that  way  *. 
**  The  Lord  Admiral  had  players,  so  had  Lord 
*'  Strange,  that  played  in  the  city  of  London.  And 

printed  in  -ito,  1706,  as  it  v/as  acted  by  the  duke  of  Graf- 
ton's servants,  at  the  new  theatre  in  Bath ;  and  Injured 
Virtue,  or  the  Virgin  Martyr,  by  Benjamin  (iriffin,  was  in  like 
manner  printed  in  l2mo,  171.'),  as  acted  at  the  playhouse 
in  Richmond  by  the  duke  of  Southampton  and  Cleveland's 
servants.     I.  R. 

*  The  Protector  Somerset  had  a  company  of  players  and 
no  doubt  others  were  sheltered  under  the  patronage  of 
noblemen,  earlier  than  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.  In  a  work 
printed  in  1568  "  at  Collen  by  Arnold  Birckman,"  but  the 
preface  dated  1 557,  we  find  the  following  mention  of  them, 
and  of  one  Miles,  a  member  of  the  company,  who  perhaps 
is  the  first  actor  in  England  whose  name  stands  upon  re- 
cord :  the  title  of  the  book  is  '*Gf  the  nature  and  proper- 
ties as  well  of  the  bathes  in  England,  as  of  other  bathes  in 
Germanye." 

**They  (says  the  writer)  drye  up  wounderfullie  and 
heale  the  goute  excellently  (and  that  in  a  shorte  tyme)  as 
with  diverse  others,  one  Myles,  some  tyme  one  of  ray  fcord 
of  Summersettes  players,  can  beare  witness."     C. 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  TREFACE. 


''  it  was  usual,    on  any  gentleman's  complaint  of 
'*  them  for  indecent  reflections  in  their  plays,  to 
"  have  them  put  down.     Thus  once   the  lord  trea- 
"  surer  signified  to  the  lord  mayor  to  have  these 
"  players  of  Lord  Admiral  and  Lord  Strange  pro 
'*  hibited,  at  least  for  some  time,  because  one  Mr* 
'*  Tilney   had  for   some    reasons    disliked    them. 
'*  Whereupon  the  mayor  sent  for  both  companies 
'*  and  gave  them  strict  charge  to  forbear  playing 
"  till  farther  orders.     The  Lord  Admiral's  players 
"  obeyed ;  but  the  Lord  Strange's  in  a  contemptu- 
"  ous  manner  went  to  the  Cross- Keys,  and  played 
'*  that   afternoon.     Upon  which  the  mayor   com- 
"  mitted  two  of  them  to  the  Compter,  and  pro- 
"  hibited  all  playing  for  the  future,  till  the  trea- 
"  surer's  pleasure  was  farther  known.     This  was  in 
''  1589."     And  in  another  part  of  his  Survey  of 
London,  speaking  of  the  stage, he  says,  "This  which 
"  was  once  a  recreation,  and  used  therefore  now 
"  and  then  occasionally,  afterwards  by  abuse   be- 
'^  came  a  trade  and  calling,  and  so  remains  to  this 
"  day.     In  those  former  days,   ingenious   trades- 
**  men,  and  gentlemen's  servants,  would  sometimes 
"  gather  a  company  of  themselves,  and  learn  inter- 
**  ludes,  to  expose  vice,  or  to  represent  the  noble 
"  actions  of  our  ancestors.     These  they  played  at 
"  Festivals,   in   private    houses,  at  weddings,    or 
"  other  entertainments.     But  in  process  of  time  it 


jMR.  dodsley's  preface.  Ixi 


"  became  an  occupation  ;  and  these  plays  being 
**  commonly  acted  on-'  Sundays  and  Festivals, 
*'  the  churches  were  forsaken,  and  the  playhouses 
*'  thronged.  Great  Inns  were  used  for  this  pur- 
"  pose,  which  had  secret  chambers  and  places,  as 
V  well  as  open  stages  and  galleries.  Here  maids 
*'  and  good  citizens  children  were  inveigled  and 
**  allured  to  private  and  unmeet  contracts ;  here 
**  were  publicly  uttered  popular  and  seditious  mat- 
"  ters,  unchaste,  uncomely,  and  unshamefaced 
**  speeches,  and  many  other  enormities.  The  con- 
*'  sideration  of  these  things  occasioned  in  1574,  Sir 
**  James  HaWes  being  mayor,  an  act  of  common 
**  councel,  wherein  it  was  ordained,  that  no  play 
**  should  be  openly  acted  within  the  liberty  of  the 
**  city,  wherein  should  be  uttered  any  words,  ex- 
'*  amples,  or  doings  of  any  unchastity,  sedition,  or 
"  such  like  untit  and  uncomely  matter,  under  the 
'*  penalty  of  five  pounds,  and  fourteen  days  im- 
**  prisonment.  That  no  play  should  be  acted  till 
**  first  perused  and  allowed  by  the  lord  mayor  and 
*'  court  of  aldermen ;  with  many  other  restrictions. 
"■  Yet  it  was  provided  that  this  act  should  not  ex- 
**  tend  to  plays  showed  in  private  houses,  the  lodg- 
"  ings  of  a  nobleman,  citizen,  or  gentleman,  for  the 

^*  The  custom  of  actino'  on  Sundays  possibly  took  rise 
froui  the  exhibition  of  the  mysteries  on  that  day,  which  was 
partly  considered  as  an  act  of  religion.    D. 


xlii  MR.  dodsley's  preface. 


'*  celebration  of  any  marriage,  or  other  festivity, 
"  and  where  no  collection  of  money  was  made  from 
*'  the  auditors.  But  these  orders  were  not  so  well 
*'  observed  as  they  should  be ;  the  lewd  matters  of 
"  plays  encreased,  and  they  were  thought  danger- 
"  ous  to  religion,  the  state,  honesty  of  manners, 
''  and  also  for  infection  in  the  time  of  sickness. 
*'  Wherefore  they  were  afterwards  for  some  time 
"  totally  suppressed.  But  upon  application  to  the 
**  queen  and  thecouncel  they  were  again  tolerated' 
**  under  the  following  restrictions  :  That  no  plays 
'*  be  acted  on  Sundays  at  all,  nor  on  any  other 
**  holidays  till  after  evening-prayer*.  That  no  play- 
"  ing  be  in  the  dark,  nor  continue  any  such  time, 

*  The  acting  of  plays,  &c.  on  Sunday  was  prohibited  in 
consequence  of  the  fall  of  a  scaffold  in  Paris  <]^arden,  on  the 
13th  January,  1583.  This  appears  from  a  Sermon  on  the 
eventby  John  Field.  Prynne  fHistriomastix  49I)  states  on 
the  supposed  authority  of  Field  that  they  abolished  plays 
on  the  Sabbath,  about  1580;  but  this  is  a  mistake.  Arthur 
Goldino-,  the  translator  of  Ovid,  in  his  "  Discourse  upon 
the  Earthquake"  of  the  6th  April,  1580,  complains  that  the 
Lord's  Day  **  is  spent  full  heathenishly  in  taverning,  tip- 
ling-,  gaming-,  playing  and  beholding-  of  bear-baitings  and 
stage-plays  to  the  utter  dishonour  of  God,  impeachment  of 
all  the  godliness  and  unnecessary  consuming  of  men's  sub- 
stances, which  ought  to  be  better  employed."  George 
Whetstone,  in  his  Mirror  for  Mughtrales  of  Cities,  1 584,  al- 
though a  play-poet  himself,  objects  to  the  use  of  them  upon 
the  Sabbath  day,  and  the  abuse  of  them  at  all  times."    C.  ' 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  Ixiii 


^'  but  as  any  of  the  auditors  may  return  to  their 
*'  dwellings  in  London  before  sunset,  or  at  least 
"  before  it  be  dark.  That  the  Queen's  players 
*'  only  be  tolerated,  and  of  them  their  number  and 
*'  certain  names  to  be  notified  in  the  lord  trea- 
'*  surer's  letters  to  the  lord  mayor,  and  to  the  jus- 
*•  tices  of  Middlesex  and  Surrey.  And  those  her 
''  players  not  to  divide  themselves  in  several  com- 
"  panies.  And  that  for  breaking  any  of  these 
''  orders^  their  toleration  cease.  But  all  these  pre- 
"  scriptions  were  not  sufficient  to  keep  them  with- 
**  in  due  bounds,  but  their  plays  so  abusive  often- 
**  times  of  virtue,  or  particular  persons,  gave  great 
**  offence,  and  occasioned  many  disturbances  : 
"  whence  they  were  now  and  then  stopped  and 
**  prohibited."  I  hope  this  long  quotation  from 
Stow  will  be  excused,  as  it  serves  not  only  to  prove 
several  facts,  but  to  show  the  customs  of  the  stage 
at  that  time,  and  the  early  depravity  of  it.  But  that 
the  plays  not  only  of  that  age,but  long  before,  were 
sometimes  personal  satires,  appears  from  a  manu 
script  letter  which  I  have  seen  from  Sir  John  Hallies 
to  the  Lord  Treasurer  Burleigh,  found  amongst 
some  papers  belonging  to  the  House  of  Commons, 
in  which  the  knight  accuses  his  lordship  of  having 
said  several  dishonourable  things  of  him  and  his 
family  particularly  that  his  grandfather,  who  had 
then    been   dead   seventv   vears,    was  a   man   so 


Ixiv  MR.  DODSLEY'S  preface. 


remarkably  covetous,  that  the  common  players  re- 
presented him  before  the  court  with  great  applause. 
Thus  we  see  the  stage  no  sooner  began  to  talk, 
than  it  grew  scurrilous  :  and  its  first  marks  of 
sense  were  seen  in  ribaldry  and  lasciviousness. 
This  occasioned  much  offence;  the  zeal  of  the 
pulpit,  and  the  gravity  of  the  city,  equally  con- 
curred to  condemn  it.  Many  pamphlets  were 
wrote  on  both  sides.  Stephen  Gosson^^,  in  the 
year  1579,  published  a  book,  intituled,  The  School 
of  Abuse,  or  a  pleasant  Invective  against  Poets, 
Pipers,  Players,  Jesters,  and  such  like  Cater- 
pillars of  the  Commonuealth ;  dedicated  to  Sir 
Philip  Sydney,  He  also  wrote,  Plays  confuted 
in  five  Actions :    proving  that  they  are  not  to  be 

^•^  Stephen  Gosson  was  a  Kentishinan,  born  1556,  and 
admitted  a  scholar  of  Christ  Church  15?  2.  He  left  the 
University  without  completing  his  degrees,  and  came  to 
London,  where  he  became  a  celebrated  poet,  and  wrote,  as 
he  acknowledges,  the  following  ]*lays,  which  were  acted 
upon  the  theatre ;  viz.  Calalins  Conspiracies ;  The  Comeciie  of 
Captain  Mario,  borrowed  from  the  Italian ;  and  The  Praise 
at  Parting,  A  Morality.  He  afterwards  went  into  the  coun- 
try to  instruct  agentleman's  sons,  and  continued  thereuntil 
he  shewed  his  dislike  to  plays  in  such  a  manner,  that,  his 
patron  growing  weary  of  his  company,  he  left  his  service, 
and  took  orders.  He  was  first  parson  of  Great  Wigborow, 
in  Essex,  and  afterwards  of  St.  Botolph  without  Bishop- 
gate,  in  London.    Wood  says  be  was  alive  in  1 6 15.     L  R. 


MR.  DODSLEY'S  preface.  Ixv 


suffered  in  a  Christian  commonwealth :  dedicated 
to  Sir  Francis  Walsingham.  The  defendants  in 
this  controversy  were  Thomas  Lodge  ^7,  who  wrote 
an  old  play,  called,  A  Looking-glass  for  London 
and  England;  and  that  voluminous  dramatic  writer 
Thomas  Heywood.^ 

But  to  proceed :  The  stage  soon  after  recovered 
its  credit,  and  rose  to  a  higher  pitch  than  ever.  In 
1603,  the  first  year  of  King  James's  reign,  a  licence  ^^ 
was  granted  under  the  privy  seal  to  Shakspeare, 
Fletcher,  Burbage,  Hemmings,  Condel,and  others, 
authorizing  them  to  act  plays  not  only  at  their  usual 
house,  the  Globe  on  the  Bankside,  but  in  any  other 
part  of  the  kingdom,  during  hjs  majesty's  pleasure. 
And  now,  as  there  lived  together  at  this  time  many 
eminent  players,  it  may  not  be  amiss  just  to  set 
down  what  we  can  collect,  which  will  be  but  very 
little,  of  the  most  considerable  of  them,  with  regard 
to  their  talents  and  abilities.  And  first,  "  who  is  of 
'*  more  report,"  says  the  author  of  the  Return 
from  Parnassus,  '*  than  Dick  Burbage'^  and  Will 

^^  For  a  particular  account  of  Lodge,  and  his  dramatic 
and  undramatic  productions,  see  the  prefatory  matter  to 
The  Wounds  of  Civil  Tfar,  (vol.  VIII.)  a  play  for  the  first  time 
included  in  this  collection.     C. 

*  In  his  *'  Apoluoy  for  Actors,''   1612,     C. 

-^  This  licence  is  printed  in  the  last  edition  of  Shakspeare, 
(1778)  vol.  I.  p.  193.     I.  R. 

^  Burbage  died,  says  Mr.  Steeveus,  in  the  year  lG2g. 
VOL.  I.  f 


Ixvi  MR.  DODSLEY'S  preface. 


"  Kempe^"?     He  is  not  counted  a  gentleman  that 
*' knows  not  Dick  Burbage   and   Will    Kempe: 

(Shakspeare,    1778,  p.  198.)     Flecnoe,  in  A  short  Discourse 
of  the  English  Stage,  printed  at  the  end  of  Love's  Kingdom, 
1674,  speaking   of  Burbage,  says,    '*  he  was  a  delightful 
"  Proteus,  so  wholly  transforming  himself  into  his  part, 
**  and  putting   off  himself  with  his  cloathes,  as  he  never 
*'  (not  so  much  as  in  the  Tyring-house)  assumed  himself 
"  again  until  the   play  was  done :  there  being   as    much 
**  difference  betwixt  him  and  one  of  our  common  actors  as 
"  between  a  ballad-singer  who  onely  mouths  it,  and  an 
**  excellent  singer  who  knows  all  his  graces,  and  can  art- 
"  fully   vary  and  modulate  his  voice   even  to  know  how 
"  much  breath   to  give  to  every  syllable.     He  had  all  the 
"  parts  of  an  excellent  orator  (animating  his  words  with 
*'  speaking  and  speech  with  action) ;  his  auditors  being 
"  never  more  delighted  than  when  he  spake,  nor  more  sorry 
"  then  when  he  held  his  peace;  yet  even   then,  he  was  an 
"  excellent  actor  still,  never  falling  in  his  part  when  he  had 
*'  done  speaking ;  but  with   his   looks  and  gesture  main- 
"  taining  it  still  unto  the  heighth,  lie  imagining  age  giiod 
"  agis  onely   spoke  to  him  :  so   as  those   who   call   him  a 
**  player  do  him   wrong,  no  man  being  less  idle  then  he, 
*'  whose  whole  life  is  nothing  else  but  action  ;  with  only 
**  this  difference  from  other  men*s,  that  what  is  but  a  play 
*'  to  them  is  his  business  ;  so  their  business  is  but  a  play 
"to  him."     I.  R. 

^°  William  Kempe  was  one  of  the  actors  who  performed 
at  the  Globe  and  at  Black  Fryers.  His  name  appears-among 
the  original  performers  in  Shakspeare's  Plays,  and  in  Ben 
Jonson's  Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  acted  1598.  He  was 
remarkable  for  excelling  in  the  morrice  dance,  a  eircum- 


Mil.  DODSLEY  S   PREFACE.  IxVU 


"  there's  not  a  country  wench  that  can  dance  Sel~ 
*'  Ie?iger§  Rounds  but  can  talk  of  Dick  Burbage  and 

stance   often  mentioned  by  contemporary  writers.     As  in 
Jao^e  Drum* s  Entertainment y  1616,  Sig-n.  A.  3: 

*'  I  had  rather  that  Kemp's  Morice  were  their  chat, 
*'  For  of  foolish  actions,  may  be  theyle  talke  wisely  but  of 
*'  Wise  intendments,  most  part  talke  like  fooles." 
Taylor's  Laugh  and  he  fat  ^  p.  73  : 

*'  This  gentleman  thy  travels  doth  advance 
"  Above  Kemp's  Norwich  antic/ie  Morris  dance." 
I  am  informed,  that   among   the  books,  given  by  Robert 
Burton  to  the  Bodleian  library,  is  a  pamphlet,  entitled, 

"  Kemp's  nine  dales  wonder  performed  in  a  daunce  from 
**  London  to  Norwich.  Containing  the  pleasure,  paines, 
*'  and  kind  entertainment  of  William  Kemp,  between  Lon- 
"  don  and  that  city  in  his  late  ^Nlorrice.  Wherein  is  some- 
*'  what  set  downe  worth  note  ;  to  reproove  the  slaunders 
**  spred  of  him :  many  things  merry,  nothing  hui'tfuU. 
**  Written  by  himselfe  to  satisfie  his  friends."  London, 
printed  for  Nicholas  Ling,  4to.  1600,  B.  L.  It  is  dedicated 
to  *'The  true  ennobled  Lady,  and  his  most  bountifuU  mis. 
**  tris,  mistris  Anne  Fitton,  mayde  of  Honour  to  the  Most 
"  Sacred  Mayde  Royall  Queene  Elizabeth."  Prefixed  to  it 
is  a  wooden  cut  of  Kemp  as  a  morris-dancer,  preceded  by  a 
fellow  with  a  pipe  and  drum,  whom  he  (in  the  book)  calls 
Thomas  Slye  his  taberer.  Ben  Jonson,  in  Every  Man  out 
of  his  Humour^  x\.  4.  S.  4.  makes  one  of  the  characters  say  : 
**  —  would  I  had  one  of  Kemp's  shoes  to  throw  after  you." 
Among  Braithwaite's  Epitaphs,  8vo.  1618,  Sign.  F  8,  is 
the  following : 

UPON  KEMPE  AND  HIS  MORICE  WITH  HIS  EPITAPH. 

"  Welcome  from  Norwich  Kempe  •  all  joy  to  see 
"  Thy  safe  returne  moriscoed  lustily. 


Ixviii  MR.  dodsley's  preface. 


"  Will  Kempe."  Burbage  was  the  Betterton,  and 
Kempe  the  Nokes  of  that  age.  Burbage  was  the 
original  Richard  the  Third  3',  and  greatly  distin- 
guished himself  in  that  character ;  Kempe  was  ini- 
mitable in  the  part  of  a  clown.  *'  He  succeeded 
'*  Tarleton  ^^  (says  Heywood)  as  well  in  the  favour 

**  But  out  alasse  how  soone's  thy  morice  done, 
''When  pipe  and  taber  all  thy  friends  be  gone, 
"  And  leave  ihee  now  to  dance  the  second  part 
*'  With  feeble  nature,  not  with  nimble  art  j 
"  Then  all  thy  triu  iiphs  fraught  with  strains  of  mirth, 
*'  Shall  becag'd  up  within  a  chest  of  earth; 
**  Shall  be  ?  they  are,  th'ast  danc'd  thee  out  of  breath, 
"  And  now  must  make  thy  parting  dance  with  death." 
^'  Bishop  Corbet,  in  his  Iter  Borealc,  see  Poems,  p.  19. 
introduces  his  Host  at  Bosworth,  describing  the  battle  : 
**  For  when  he  would  have  said  King  Richard  dy'd, 
"  And  call'd  a  horse,  a  horse,  he  Burbage  cry'd."     I.  R. 
^-  Tarlton  was  an  actor  at  the  Bull,  in  Bishopsgate-street, 
and  performed   the  Judge's  character  in  the  play  of  King 
Henry  V.  which  was  prior  to  that  of  Shakspeare-     He  also 
for  some  time  kept  an  ordinary  in  Pater-noster-row,   and 
once  was  master  of  a  Tavern  in  Grace-church-street.     He 
appears  to  have  been  in  great  favour  with  Queen  Elizabeth, 
and  like  many  other  of  his  brethren,  who  have  succeeded 
him,  joined  sonie  humour  to  a  great  deal  of  profligacy.    He 
was  the  author  of  a  dramatic  performance,  called  2'he  seven 
deadly  Sins,  which  is  now  lost ;  but  the  scheme  or  plan  of  it 
hath  been  lately  discovered  by  Mr.  Malone,  and  is  at  pre- 
sent in  his  possession.    In  Gabriel  Harvey's  "  Foure  Letters 
**  and  certaine   Sonnets,  especially  tuuching  Robert  Greene  and 
'*  other  parlies  by  him  abused,'^*  4to.  1592,  p,  29,  mention  is 


MR.  DODSLEY'S  preface.  Ixlx 


*'  of  her  majesty  Queen  Elizabeth,  as  in  the  opinion 
**  and  good  thoughts     of    the  general  audience." 

made  of  a  work  written  by  Thomas  Nashe,  ''  —  right  for- 
"  mally  conveyed  according  to  the  stile  and  tenour  of 
"  Tarlton's  president,  his  famous  play  of  the  Scaven  deadly 
"  Sinnes,  which  most  deadly,  but  most  lively  playe,  I  might 
**  have  scene  in  London  :  and  was  very  gently  invited  there- 
*'  unto  at  Oxford  l)y  Tarlton  himselfe,  of  whome  I  merrily 
"  demaunding,  which  of  the  seaven  was  his  owne  deadlie 
"  sinne  ;  he  bluntly  aunswered  after  this  manner.  By  God 
"  the  sinne  of  other  gentlemen  lechery.  Oh,  but  that  M. 
**  Tarleton  is  not  your  part  upon  the  stage:  you  are  too 
*' blame  that  dissemble  with  the  world,  and  have  one  part 
*'for  your  frends  pleasure,  another  for  your  owne.  I  am 
"  somewhat  of  Doctor  Feme's  religion,  quoth  he  :  and 
"  abruptlie  tooke  his  leave.''  Tarlton  died  about  loSy,  and 
was  buried  at  Shoreditch.  On  the  2d  day  of  August,  in 
that  year, Henry  Kyrkhamhad  licensed  unto  "A  sorowfuU 
"  newe  sonnette,  intitled  Tariton's  Recantation  upon  this 
"  theame,  gyven  him  by  a  Gent  at  the  Bel  Savage  without 
**  Ludo^ate,  (nowe  or  els  never),  bcinge  the  laste  theame  he 
**  songe."  And  on  the  lOth  of  October,  there  was  licenced 
to  Richard  Jones,  "  Tarlton's  repentance,  or  his  farewell  to 
**  his  friends  in  his  sicknes  a  little  before  his  death,  &c." — 
(See  the  Entries  from  the  Books  of  the  Stationers'  Com- 
pany.) By  Bishop  Hall's  Satires  it  appears,  that  Tarlton 
was  celebrated  enough  to  have  his  head  hung  as  a  ?ign  for 
ale-houses, 

"  To  sit  with  Tarlton  on  an  ale-post's  signe  !''     I.  R. 
In  P.  Bucke's  *'  Stately  moral  of  the  three  Lords  and 
'*  three  Ladies  of  London,"   1590,    Simplicity,  a  sort  of 
pedlar-clown,  is  represented  as  carrying  in  his  basket  pic- 


IXX  MR.  DODSLEY'S  PREFACE. 


And  Tarleton,  says  Sir  Richard  Baker  in  his 
Chronicle,  for  the  part  of  a  clown,  never  had 
his  match,  nor  ever  will  have.  The  Epitaph  of 
Burbage  is  preserved  in  Cambden's  Remains,  and 
is  only  Exit  Burbage.  The  Epitaph  of  Tarleton 
is  preserved  by  the  same  historian  as  follows : 

Hie  situs  est,  cujus  Vox,  Vultus,  Actio  possit 
Ex  Heraclito  redde  Democrituin. 

The  next  I  shall  mention  is  Edward  Alleyn,  the 
founder  of  Dulwich  Hospital;  as  famous  for  his 
honesty,  says  Baker,  as  for  his  acting ;  and  two 
such  actors  as  he  and  Burbage,  no  age  must  ever 
look  to  see  again.  He's  a  man,  says  Hey  wood  in 
his  Prologue  to  the  Jew  of  Malta, 

Whom  we  may  rank  with  (do  no  more  \vronj>) 
Proteus  for  shapes,  and  Roscius  for  a  tongue. 

Hear  also  Ben  Jonson,  whose  praise  is  of  more 
weight,  as  it  never  was  Hghtly  bestowed: 

If  Rome  so  great,  and  in  her  wisest  age, 
FearM  not  to  boast  the  glories  of  her  stage. 
As  skilful  Roscius,  and  grave  iEsop,  men. 
Yet  crowu'd  with  honours  as  with  riches  then, 
Who  had  no  less  a  trumpet  of  their  name 
Than  Cicero,  whose  very  breath  was  fame: 

tures  of  Tarlton.  The  date  of  Tarlton's  death  has  been 
ascertained  to  have  been  shortly  before  the  3d  September, 
1588,  (not  1589,  as  mentioned  by  Mr.  Reed)  as  he  was 
buried  on  that  day,  as  appears  by  the  Register  of  St. 
Leonard,  Shoreditch.     C. 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.      Ixxi 


How  can  so  great  example  die  in  me. 
That,  Alleyn,  I  should  pause  to  publish  thee  ? 
Who  both  their  graces  in  thyself  hast  more 
Outstript,  than  they  did  all  that  went  before  ; 
And  present  worth  in  all  dost  so  contract. 
As  others  speak,  but  only  thou  dost  act. 
Wear  this  renown  :  'Tis  just  that  who  did  give 
So  many  poets  life,  by  one  should  live. 

Thomas  Green  "  was  famous  for  performing  the 
part  of  a  clown  with  great  propriety  and  humour; 
and  from  his  excellent  performance  of  the  character 
of  Bubble,  in  a  comedy  written  by  Mr.  John 
Cooke,  the  author  called  it  after  his  name.  Greens 
Tu  qiioque.  "  There  was  not  an  actor,  says  Hey- 
**  wood,  of  his  nature,  in  his  time,  of  better  ability 
*'  in  his  performance,  more  applauded  by  the 
*'  audience,  of  greater  grace  at  court,  or  of  more 
*'  general  love  in  the  city." 

Hemmings  and  Condcl  ^*  were  two  considerable 

^'  See  vol.  VII.  p.  i,  for  some  account  of  Green. 
'  It  is  not  known  when  these  two  performers  died.  Mr. 
Steevens,  who  searched  for  their  wills  in  the  Commons, 
could  not  find  them,  thouoh  he  looked  as  late  as  the  year 
l()4l .  See  the  first  volume  of  the  edition  of  Shakspeare  in 
l?78,  p.  \98.  Hemmings  had  a  son  named  William  (pro- 
bably called  so  in  compliment  to  Shakspeare),  who  was 
born  in  London,  l603,  elected  from  Westminster  School,  a 
student  of  Christ  Church,  i()2l,  and  completed  his  degree 
in  arts  1028.  He  was  the  author  of  two  Plays,  and  a  Latin 
copy  of  Verses,  printed  in  "  Carolus  Redus,"  :623.     By 


Ixxii  MR.  DODSLEY'S  preface. 


actors  in  most  of  Shakspeare's,  Jonson's,  and 
Fletcher's  Plays  ;  the  first  in  tragedy,  the  last  in 
comedy :  but  they  are  better  known  for  being  the 
first  editors  of  Shakspeare's  Works  in  folio,  in  the 
year  1623,  seven  years  after  his  death. 

Lowin  3^,  Taylor,  and  Benfield,  are  mentioned 
by  Massinger  as  famous  actors.  In  a  Satire  against 
Ben  Jonson  are  these  two  lines: 

Let  Lowin  cease,  and  Taylor  scorn  to  touch 
The  loathed  stage,  for  thou  hast  made  it  such. 

Lowin,  though  something  later  than  Burbage,  is 
said  to  have  been  the  first  actor  ^^  of  Hamlet,  and 

an  Advertisement  to  one  of  his  Plays,  it  appears  that  he 
lived  not  lono-  after  the  year  ljf)oO.     J.  R. 

This  account  will  receive  some  corrections  by  the  reader 
who  refers  to  Malone's  Sh.  l>y  Boswell,  IIL  186,  and  where 
it  also  appears  that  "  John  Hemin^e  (or  Heming-es)  the 
player'*  (for  he  is  so  styled  in  the  parish  register)  died  on 
the  10th  October,  l63(),  and  was  buried  two  days  afterwards 
in  the  church-yard  of  St.  Mary,  Aldermanbury.     C. 

^^  See  Historia  Histrionica,  in  this  vol. 

^•^  This  seems  to  be  said  merely  on  the  credit  of  Roberts 
the  player  in  his  answer  to  Pope's  Preface ;  but  as  he  quotes 
no  authority,  the  truth  of  it  may  be  doubted.  The  Historia 
Histrionica  speaks  of  Lowin*s  performance  of  Falstaffe, 
Morose,  Volpone,  and  Mammon ;  and  Downcs,  in  his  Roscius 
Anglicanusy  p.  24.  mentions  him  as  the  original  actor  of 
King  Henry  VI IL  but  neither  of  them  take  any  notice  of 
his  ever  being-  the  representative  of  Hamlet.  On  the  con- 
trary both  of  them  (see  vol.  xii.  p.  341.  and  Downes,  p.  21.) 


MR.   DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  Ixxiii 


also  the  original  Henry  VIII.  from  an  observation 
of  whose  acting  it  in  his  later  days,  Sir  William 
Davenant  conveyed  his  instruction  to  Mr.  Better- 
ton. 

And  now  the  theatre  seems  to  have  been  at 
its  height  of  glory  and  reputation.  Dramatic  au- 
thors abounded,  and  every  year  produced  a  number 
of  new  Plays  :  nay,  so  great  was  the  passion  at 
this  time  for  shew  or  representation,  that  it  was 
the  fashion  for  the  nobility  to  celebrate  their  wed- 
dings, birth-days,  and  other  occasions  of  rejoicing, 
with  masques  and  interludes,  which  were  exhibited 
with  surprising  expence ;  that  great  architect  Inigo 
Jones  being  frequently  employed  to  furnish  deco- 
rations with  all  the  magnificence  of  his  invention. 
The  king  and  his  lords,  the  queen  and  her  ladies, 
frequently  performed  in  these  masques  at  court, 
and  all  the  nobiUty  in  their  own  private  houses : 
in  short,  no  public  entertainment  was  thought  com- 
plete without  them ;  and  to  this  humour  it  is  we 
owe,  and  perhaps  'tis  all  we  owe  it,  the  inimitable 
Masque  at  Ludlow-castle.  For  the  same  universal 
eagerness  after  theatrical  diversions  continued  du- 
ring the  whole  reign  of  king  James,  and  great  part 
of  Charles  the  First,  till   Puritanism,  which  had 

assert  that  Joseph  Taylor  was  the  original  of  that  character; 
and  from  Sir  William  Davenant's  observation  of  his  man- 
ner, Mr.  Betterton  received  instructions  to  perform  it. 
(See  also  edition  of  Shakspeare,  1778,  vol.  x.p.  408).  I.  R. 


Ixxiv       MR.  DODSLEY'S  tRKFACE. 


now  gathered  great  strength,  more  openly  opposed 
them  as  wicked  and  diabolical.  If  we  may  judge 
of  this  spirit  from  Prynne's  famous  Histrio-mastix, 
or  Players  Scourge,  it  appears  to  have  been  a  zeal 
much  without  knowledge.  This  was  a  heavy  load 
of  dull  abuse,  published  in  1633,  against  plays, 
players,  and  all  who  favoured  them,  by  William 
Prynne^\  esq  :  a  barrister  of  Lincoln's-Inn.     The 

^^  This  very  extraordinary  man,  whose  severe  punishment, 
and  Roman  constancy  in  submitting  to  it,  had  no  small  effect 
upon  tlie  minds  of  the  people,  and  contributed  more  than 
is  generally  imagined  to  the  disasters  of  the  times,  was 
born  at  Swanswick,  near  Bath,  in  Somersetshire,  in  the 
year  J600.  He  was  educated  in  the  last-mentioned  city; 
entered  of  Oriel  (College  in  l()i6,  and  took  the  degree  of 
B.  A.  Jan.  20,  162O.  From  thence  he  was  removed  to  Lin- 
coln's Inn,  where  he  studied  the  Common  Law,  and  be- 
came successively  Barrister,  Bencher,  and  Reader,  in  that 
society.  After  the  execution  of  his  sentence,  on  account 
of  Histrio-mastix,  he  printed  other  pieces  which  gave  equal 
offence,  which  occasioned  his  being  again  prosecuted.  In 
consequence  of  which,  he  was  fined,  branded,  and  impri- 
soned, and  in  each  with  e([ual  or  more  severity  than  l»e- 
fore.  The  place  of  his  confinement  was  Mount  Orguiel,  in 
the  island  of  Jersey,  where  he  continued  three  years  :  at 
the  end  of  that  time,  being  chosen  member  for  Newport  in 
Cornwall,  he  was  released,  and  entered  London  in  tri- 
umph ;  and  he  soon  had  an  opportunity  to  revenge  the  se- 
vere treatment  he  had  experienced  from  his  inveterate  foe, 
Archbishop  Laud.  He  sat  in  the  long  Parliament,  and 
was  one  of  the  secluded  Members  who  were  imprisoned  on 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.     Ixxv 


best  way  the  parties  coucerned  thought  of,  in  an- 
swer to  this  Work,  was  to  publisli  all  the  best  old 
Plays  that  could  then  be  found  ;  so  that  many  that 
had  never  yet  seen  the  light  were  now  brought 
forth  :  1  have  observed  myself  more  than  fifty  that 
were  printed  this  year.  In  short,  the  patrons  of 
the  stage  for  some  short  time  prevailed  ;  Prynne's 
Book  was  deemed  an  infamous  libel  both  against 
the  church  and  state,  against  the  peers,  prelates, 
and  magistrates  ;  and  particularly  against  the  king 
and  queen,  where  he  says,  that  princes  dancing  in 
their  own  persons  zcas  the  cause  of  their  untimely 
ends:  that  our  English  ladies^  shorn  and  fnzzled 
madams^  had  lost  their  modesty ;  that  plaj/s  were 
the  chief  delight  of  the  devil,  and  all  that  frequent- 

accouut  of  their  zeal  for  a  peace  with  the  Kino^,  From  this 
time  he  was  an  avowed  enemy  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  was 
by  him  imprisoned  in  Dunster  Castle  in  Somersetshire.  At 
the  restoration  he  became  instrumental  in  recallino-  the 
Kino-,  and  was  rewarded  with  being  appointed  keeper  of  the 
records  in  the  Tower,  and  a  salary  of  500/.  per  annum.  He 
was  soon  after  named  one  of  the  Commissioners  for  ap- 
peals and  regulating  the  excise,  was  elected  Member  for 
Bath,  and  embroiled  himself  with  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, on  which  account  he  was  obliged  to  make  a  sub- 
mission. He  died  at  his  chambers  in  Lincoln's-Inn,  Oct. 
24,  1669;  and  was  buried  under  the  chapel  there.     I.  R. 

This  note  is  transferred  to  this  place  from  the  introductory 
matter,  to  Shirley's  Bird  in  a  Cage,  which  is  not  reprinted 
in  the  present  edition.     C; 


Ixxvi  MR.  DODSLEY'S  preface. 

ed  them  were  damned.  As  he  knew  the  king  and 
queen  frequented  them  daily,  this  was  thought  to 
reflect  on  their  majesties.  To  all  music  he  has  an 
utter  antipathy,  but  church-music  in  particular, 
which  he  calls  the  bleating  of  hrute  beasts  ;  and  says, 
the  choristers  bellow  the  tenor  as  if  they  zcere  oxen, 
bark  a  counter-point  like  a  kennel  of  hounds j  roar  a 
treble  as  if  they  were  bulls,  and  grunt  out  a  base 
like  a  parcel  of  hogs.  For  these  and  many  other 
passages,  it  was  ordered  to  be  burnt  by  the  hands 
of  the  common  hangman  :  and  his  sentence  was,  to 
be  put  from  the  bar,  excluded  the  society  of  Lin- 
colns-Inn,  and  degraded  by  the  university  of  Ox- 
ford ;  to  stand  in  the  pillory  at  Westminster  and 
in  Cheapside,  to  lose  an  ear  at  each  place,  and 
stand  with  a  paper  on  his  head,  declaring  his 
offence  to  be  the  publishing  an  infamous  libel 
against  both  their  majesties,  and  the  government; 
to  be  fined  5000/.  and  suffer  perpetual  imprison- 
ment. This  sentence  was  executed  on  him  with 
o*reat  liscour.  But  Puritanism,  from  a  thousand 
concurrent  causes  every  day  gathering  strength,  in 
a  little  time  overturned  the  constitution ;  and 
amongst  their  many  Reformations  this  was  one,  the 
total  suppression  of  all  plays  and  play-houses.  * 

*  A  hoax  was  played  off  upon  Prynne,  some  years  after 
the  printing  of  his  Histriomastix  in  l633,  by  the  publica- 
tion of  a  tract,  called  "  Mr.  William  Prynn,  his  Defence  of 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.         Ixxvii 


Thus  I  have  brought  down  this  imperfect  essay 
on  the  rise  and  progress  of  the  English  stage,  to 
the  period  which  I  at  first  intended  :  to  pursue  it 
farther,  and  take  it  up  again  at  the  Restoration, 
when  a  new  ^*  patent  was  granted  to  Sir  William 
Davenant,  would  be  needless ;  because  from  that 
time  the  affairs  of  the  stage  are  tolerably  well 
known.  If  what  I  have  done  shall  give  any  satis- 
faction to  the  curious,  it  is  more  than  I  have  dared 
to  promise  myself,  from  my  own  sense  of  its  great 
imperfection ;  but  I  hope  it  will  be  considered, 
what  slender  materials  either  the  ignorance  of  those 
times,  or  the  injury  of  the  following,  have  afforded 

Stage-plays  ,-  or  u  Retractation  of  a  former  book  of  his 
called  Histrio-mastix."  It  bears  date  in  l649,  but  as  the 
answer  of  Prynne  to  it,  in  the  shape  of  a  posting  bill  is 
dated  Jan.  10,  l648,  it  was  most  likely  ante-dated.  "The 
Vindication  of  William  Prynne  esquire  from  some  scan- 
dalous papers  and  imputations  newly  printed,  and  publish- 
ed, to  traduce  and  defame  him  in  his  reputation,"  is  in  the 
British  Museum,  and  other  copies  of  it  are  known  to  exist : 
he  declares  the  supposed  defence  by  him  to  be  *'  a  mere 
forgery,  and  imposture"  by  some  of  the  "imprisoned  stage- 
players."     C. 

^^  It  may  not  be  amiss  to  take  notice  of  a  clause  in  this 
patent,  which  says,  "  That  whereas  the  women's  parts  in 
"  plays  have  hitherto  been  acted  by  men  in  the  habits  of 
"  women,  at  which  some  have  taken  offence,  we  permit 
"  and  give  leave,  for  the  time  to  come,  that  all  women's 
"  parts  be  acted  by  women."  And  from  this  time  women 
began  to  appear  upon  the  stage.     D. 


Ixxviii        MR.  dodsley's  preface. 


us.  1  am,  as  it  were,  the  first  adventurer  on  these 
discoveries,  and  it  is  not  reasonable  to  expect 
more  perfection  than  is  commonly  found  in  the 
first  attempts  of  this  nature.  All  that  I  can  say  is, 
that  I  have  thrown  together  a  number  of  curious 
circumstances  on  the  subject,  that  the  reader 
would  seek  for  in  vain  elsewhere.  And  if  the 
novelty  of  them  should  excite  the  curiosity  of  any 
person  of  greater  abilities,  better  health,  or  more 
leisure,  to  make  a  stricter  enquiry  into  this  matter, 
he  would  certainly  oblige  me,  and  perhaps  the 
public.  It  is  enough  for  me  that  I  have  led  the 
way,  and  been  the  first,  however  imperfect,  dis- 
coverer. 

It  now  only  remains  to  say  something  of  my  un- 
dertaking, which  I  shall  endeavour  to  comprize  in 
as  few  words  as  may  be.  My  first  end  was  to 
snatch  some  of  the  best  pieces  of  our  old  dramatic 
writers  from  total  neglect  and  oblivion :  as  things 
not  only  of  mere  curiosity  but  of  use,  as  far  as  an 
elegant  entertainment  can  be  of  use  ;  several  of 
these  being  not  unworthy  the  present,  nor  indeed 
any  stage.  I  have  generally  preferred  comedies  to 
tragedies,  not  only  as  these  times  afforded  much 
better  in  the  kind,  and  would  therefore  in  this  and 
other  respects  be  most  entertaining  to  the  reader, 
but  as  they  better  serve  to  shew  the  humour,  fa- 
shion, and  genius  of  the  times  in  which  they  were 
written.     Another   end   which  I  thought  such  a 


MR.  DODSLBY*S  PREFACE.       Ixxix 


collection   might  answer  was,  that  it  would  serve 
very  well  to  shew  the  progress  and  improvement 
of  our  taste  and  language.     For  this  better  pur- 
pose, in  the  six  pieces  «9  which  compose  the  first 
volume,  and  also  in  the  remarkable  tragedy  of  Gor- 
boduc,  I  was  even  so  scrupulous   as  to  preserve 
their  very  original  orthography.     I  did  indeed,  to 
gratify  the  reader's  curiosity,  intend  to  have  done 
the  same  in  all  the  rest ;    but  this  was  plainly  im- 
possible, unless  I  could  have  met  with  the    first 
editions ;  for  in  every  edition  the  orthography  was 
generally  adapted  to  that  then  in  use.     I  also  con- 
sidered, that  though  this  might  have  been  enter- 
taining to  the  curious,  to  the  generality  of  readers 
it  would^have  been  very  disagreeable.  To  the  first 
therefore  I  have  given  a  sufficient  specimen  in  one 
volume,  and  to  the  other  I  have  endeavoured  to 
make  the  reading  as  easy  as  I  could  in  the  rest.    A 
farther  inducement  to   this    undertaking  was    the 
hopes  I  had  of  being  able  to  do  these  authors  jus- 
tice in  a  more  correct  edition  of  their  Plays,  than 
they  hitherto  had ;  for  as  to  the  greater  part  of  them, 
it   seems    as   if  carelessness    and   ignorance   had 

^^  Mr.  Dodsley,  not  knowing  the  first  editions  of  the  se- 
veral pieces  which  compose  this  collection,  made  a  wrong 
arrangement  of  them.  This  is  altered  in  the  present  edi- 
tion ;  but  the  orthography  of  the  first  six  pieces  is  pre- 
served, though  three  of  the  plays  are  printed  from  earlier 
and  more  correct  copies.    I.  R- 


Ixxx 

joined  their  efforts  in  rendering  them  unintelligible. 
And  not  only  so,  but  the  pointing  is  at  the  same 
time  so  preposterous  (which,  like  false  guiding- 
posts,  are  perpetually  turning  out  of  the  high  road 
of  common  sense),  that  one  would  almost  suspect 
there  was  as  much  malice  as  stupidity  in  these  old 
editors.  However,  by  the  assistance  of  a  little 
common  sense,  I  think  I  have  set  a  great  number 
of  these  passages  right.  And  if  any  one  should  be 
offended  that  some  are  left  unintelligible  in  the 
state  they  were  found,  I  desire  he  will  be  pleased 
to  consider  how  many  such  still  remain  in  Shaks- 
peare  *^,  after  the  best  endeavours  that  have  hitherto 

*^  It  should  be  remembered  that  this  was  writteu  in  the 
year  l7-i4,  when  the  observation  might  be  madc^with  great 
truth  and  justice.  How  imperfectly  Shakspeare  was  under- 
stood at  that  time,  every  reader  conversant  with  his  writ- 
ings is  now  well  informed.  The  same  year  in  which  the 
former  edition  of  this  work  appeared,  the  splendid,  but  ill 
conducted,  design  of  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  was  made  public. 
It,  however,  was  generally  disapproved  of,  and  Dr.  War- 
burton's  attempt  a  few  years  afterwards,  from  which  great 
expectations  were  formed,  was  not  more  successful.  The 
failure  of  these  gentlemen  probably  excited  Dr.  Johnson 
to  undertake  a  new  edition,  which  would  have  precluded 
every  further  effort,  had  he  executed  the  plan  laid  down  in 
his  proposals.  *'  The  editor,"  says  he,  "  will  endeavour  to 
**  read  the  books  which  the  authorread,  to  trace  his  know- 
"  ledge  to  the  source,  and  compare  his  copies  with  their 
*'  originals."  Again,  '*  He  hopes,  that,  by  comparing  the 
"  works  of  Shakespeare  with  those  of  writers  who  lived  at 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  Ixxxi 


been  used  to  restore  their  orisr'mal  meanino:.  Be- 
sides,  I  believe  I  may  venture  to  say,  it  is  more 
difficult  to  give  a  correct  specimen  of  so  many 
writers,  than  a  correct  edition  of  any  one :  be- 
cause, when  an  Author's  manner  is  once  known,  it 
will  very  often  help  to  rectify  or  discover  the 
meaning-  of  corrupted  or  intricate  passages  :  where- 
as the  reading  of  so  many  different  stiles  and  man- 
ners of  writing  will  be  apt,  without  great  care,  to 
confound  and  mislead  the  judgment.  Add  to  this, 
that  it  is  easier  to  correct  the  errors  in  a  good  au- 
thor than  in  a  bad  one;  because  not  only  the  con- 
struction of  the  language  is  generally  better  and 
less  confused,  but  the  sentiments  are  clearer  and 

more   striking.     After  all,  I  submit  what  I   have 

• 

**  the  same  time,  immediately  preceded  or  immediately  fol- 
"  lowed  him,  he  shall  he  al)le  to  ascertain  his  amhi<^uities, 
"  disentangle  his  intricacies,  and  recover  the  meaning  of 
*•'  words  now  lost  in  the  darkness  of  antiquity.'*  That  Dr. 
Johnson  was  not  possessed  of  the  materials  necessary  to 
accomplish  his  own  excellent  desii^n  would  have  been  the 
subject  of  regret  witli  every  reader  of  Shakspeare,  if  the  plan 
he  had  delineated  had  been  neglected  on  its  failure  in  his 
hands.  Fortunately  for  the  public,  it  was  resumed  by  Mr. 
Steevens  with  unremitting  attention  and  equal  ability.  The 
success  which  hath  followed  this  gentleman's  researches, 
joined  to  tlie  assistance  of  Or.  Farmer,  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  Mr. 
Malone,  Mr.  Warton,  .Mr- Toilet,  and  a  few  others,  hath 
left  very  little  for  the  industry  of  any  future  commentator 
on  our  ever  to  be  unequalled  bard. 

VOL.  I.  g 


Ixxxii  MR.  DODSLEY'S  PREFACE. 


done  to  the  judgment  of  the  public,  whose  candour 
I  have  often  experienced,  and  on  whose  good- 
nature I  am  afraid  I  shall  always  have  more  oc- 
casion to  rely,  than  on  any  merit  I  shall  ever  pre- 
tend to.  So  far  am  I  from  aiming  at  the  character 
of  a  critic,  that  what  corrections  or  emendations  I 
have  made  are  bestowed  on  the  public  (as  good 
men  do  their  alms)  privately,  and  without  ostenta- 
tion. Yet  however  contemptibly  I  may  think  of 
myself,  I  have  the  honour  of  keeping  a  critic  in 
waiting  for  the  publication  of  this  collection,  in 
order  to  detect  and  expose  the  errors  which  may 
have  escaped  me,  or  which  I  may  not  have  been 
able  to  correct.  I  heartily  wish  him  success  in  his 
undertaking ;  I  have  pointed  him  out  some  few, 
and  doubt  not  but,  if  he  is  truly  industrious,  he 
will  be  able  to  find  many  others,  which  I  shall  be 
very  glad  to  see  amended. 

I  conclude  with  begging  leave  to  return  my  ac- 
knowledgments to  all  those  who  have  given  me 
the  honour  of  their  names  ^'  to  encourage  this 
undertaking:  I  hope  I  have  at  least  fairly  fulfilled 
the  conditions  of  my  proposal,  as  to  the  elegance 
and  neatness  of  the  book ;  and  as  to  this  short 
account  of  the  stage,  if  it  be  a  trifle,  it  is  a  trifle 
more  than  I  promised.     I  am  also  in  a  more  par- 

*^  The  first  Edition  of  this  Work  was  printed  by  sub- 
scription.   I.  R. 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  Ixxxiii 


ticular  manner  to  acknowledge  my  obligations  to 
some  generous  and  learned  friends,  from  whose 
advice  and  assistance  I  am  sensible  my  work  has 
derived  more  value  and  correctness  than  it  could 
ever  have  appeared  with,  had  I  been  left  alone  to 
struggle  with  my  own  weak  endeavours. 


SUPPLEMENT 


MR.  DODSLEY'S  PREFACE*. 


In  the  foregoing  Preface,  Mr.  Dodsley  hath 
carried  on  his  account  of  the  stage  to  that  period 
when  the  inroads  of  civil  war,  joined  to  the  fana- 
tical madness  then  prevailing,  overthrew  the  stage, 
and  soon  after  effected  the  destruction  of  monarchy. 
In  the  present  supplement  it  is  intended,  with  as 
much  accuracy  as  the  few  materials  remaining  will 
permit,  to  take  up  the  narrative  of  those  revolu- 
tions which  the  theatre  hath  since  undergone  to  the 
year  1776 ;  a  year  which  in  the  annals  of  the  stage 
will  be  always  deemed  an  important  one,  being  the 
time  when  the  late  Mr.  Garrick  terminated  his 
theatrical  life,  and  quitted  the  management  of 
Drury-lane  playhouse. 

*  The  few  additional  notes  to  this  Supplement,  by  Mr. 
Reed,  are  marked  with  his  initials.  The  other  notes  unap- 
propriated, were  printed  by  hira  in  the  edition  of  1780.   C. 


Ixxxvi  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


From  the  commencement  of  hostilities  between 
the  king  and  his  parliament,  the  performances  of 
the  stage  were  intirely  discontinued.  Of  the 
several  actors  then  employed  in  the  theatres,  such 
as  were  not  prevented '  by  age  went  immediately 
into  the  army,  and,  as  it  might  be  expected,  took 
part  with  their  sovereign,  whose  affection  for  their 
profession  had  been  shewn  by  many  instances 
previous  to  the  open  rupture  between  him  and  his 
people.  The  event  of  the  war  was  alike  fatal  to 
monarchy,  and  to  the  stage.  After  a  violent  and 
bloody  contest  of  some  years,  they  both  fell  to- 
gether, the  king  lost  his  hfe  by  the  bands  of  an 
executioner,  the  theatres  were  abandoned  or 
destroyed,  and  those  by  whom  they  used  to  be 
occupied  were  either  killed  in  the  wars,  worn  out 
with  old  age,  or  dispersed  in  different  places, 
fearful  of  assembling,  lest  they  should  give  offence 
to  the  ruling  powers. 

The  fate  of  their  royal  master  being  determined, 
the  surviving  dependants  on  the  drama  were 
obliged  again  to  return  to  the  exercise  of  their 
former  profession.  In  the  winter  of  the  year 
1648  %  they  ventured  to  act  some  plays  at  the 
Cockpit,  but  were  soon  interrupted  and  silenced 
by  the  soldiers,  who  took  them  into  custody  in  the 
midst  of  one  of  their  performances,  and  committed 

'  Historia  Hislrionica,  in  this  vol.  ®  Ibid. 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  IxXXVll 


them  to  prison.  After  this  ineffectual  attempt  to 
settle  at  their  former  quarters,  we  hear  no  more  of 
any  public  exhibition  for  some  time  '.  They  still, 
however,  kept  together,  and  by  connivance  of  the 
commanding  officer  at  Whitehall,  sometimes  repre- 
sented privately  a  few  plays  at  a  short  distance 
from  town.    They  also  were  permitted  to  entertain 

'  In  the  Mercurius  AntepragmaticuSy  No.  18,  Jan.  27,  l648, 
mention  is  made  of  an  order  of  the  House  of  Commons  in 
these  words  :  "  And  that  the  disobedient  of  what  rank 
"  soever  may  be  regulated  upon  information  given  to  the 
*'  House,  that  many  stage-pluies  were  acted  in  the  several 
"  parts  of  the  City  and  County  of  Middlesex,  notwith- 
"  standing  they  were  prohibited  from  their  foppery  by  a 
"  former  ordinance,  they  ordered,  that  an  ordinance  should 
"  be  drawn  up  for  suppressing  all  stage-plaices,  and  for 
*'  the  taking  downe  all  their  boxes,  stages,  and  seats  what- 
*' soever,  that  so  there  might  be  no  more  plaies  acted; 
**  and  indeed,  these  are  no  times  to  have  publil<e  interludes 
"  permitted,  when  the  hand  of  God  lies  so  heavy  upon  us, 
"  and  all  the  powers  of  hell  in  action  against  us  ;  if  those 
"  proud  parroting  players  cannot  live,  let  them  put  their 
**  hands  to  worke,  they  are  mqst  of  them  a  sort  of  super- 
"  bious  ruffians  given  to  all  manner  of  wickednesse,  and 
"  because  sometimes  the  asses  are  cloathed  in  lions  skins, 
"  the  dolts  imagine  themselves  somebody,  walke  in  as  great 
"  state  as  Ccesar,  and  demeaue  themselves  as  loftily  as 
**  any  of  the  twelve  noble  spirited  beasts  of  the  wilder. 
"  nesse ;  away  with  them  and  their  actions  on  the  publike 
"  stage. 

'*  For  since  we  have  supprest  our  adjutators, 
'•  Let's  part  the  actors  and  the  rude  spectators." 


IxXXViii  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


some  of  the  nobility  at  their  country  houses,  where 
they  were  paid  by  those  under  whose  protection 
they  acted.  They  also  obtained  leave  at  particular 
festivals  to  divert  the  public  at  the  Red  Bull,  but 
this  was  not  always  without  interruption.  Those 
at  the  head  of  aflciirs  still  continued  their  impla- 
cable rancour  against  all  who  were  connected  with 
polite  letters,  and  the  unfortunate  actors  who  sur- 
vived to  this  period  felt  the  greatest  distress.  A 
slender  and  precarious  support  was  the  whole  they 
were  allowed.  In  this  situation  several  of  them 
were  obliged  to  draw  forth  the  manuscripts  of  their 
contemporaries  which  they  had  in  their  possession, 
and  many  plays  were  published  which  might  other- 
wise have  never  seen  the  light. 

But  though  the  fury  of  religious  zeal  seemed  to 
threaten  that  the  stage  should  never  revive,  and 
every  method  was  taken  which  might  tend  to 
accomplish  that  design,  the  pleasure  which  had 
been  received  from  dramatic  entertainments  was 
too  strong  to  be  totally  overcome.  Amidst  the 
gloom  of  fanaticism,  and  whilst  the  royal  cause  was 
considered  as  desperate,  Sir  William  Davenant, 
without  molestation,  exhibited  entertainments  of 
declamation  and  music  after  the  manner  of  the 
ancients   at   Rutland-house  *.      He    began  in  the 

*  At  the  upper  end  of  Aldersgate-street,  says  the  title- 
page  of  some  of  these  performances.     Oldys,  in  his  MS. 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.         Ixxxix 


year  1656,  and  two  years  afterwards  removed  to 
the  Cockpit,  Drury-lane,  where  he  performed 
until  the  eve  of  the  Restoration. 

On  the  appearance  of  that  event's  taking  place, 
the  retainers  of  the  theatre  then  remaining  col- 
lected themselves  together,  and  began  to  resume 
their  former  employment.  In  the  year  1659, 
about  thn  time  general  Monk  marched  with  his 
army  out  of  Scotland  towards  London,  Mr.  Rhodes\ 
a  bookseller,  who  had  formerly  been  wardrobe- 
keeper  to  the  company  which  acted  at  Black 
Fryers,  fitted  up  the  Cockpit  in  Drury-lane.  The 
actors  he  procured  were  chieily  new  to  ihe  stage. 

Notes  on  Langbaine,  speaks  of  it  as  being  situated  in 
Charter-house-yard.  Two  of  these  entertainments  arc 
mentioned  in  the  List  of  Davenant's  Works,  vol.  8.  To 
them  may  be  added  the  following:  l.The  Cruelty  of  the 
Spaniards  in  Peru;  exprest  by  instrumental  and  vocal 
Music,  and  by  art  of  perspective  in  Scenes,  &c.  repre- 
sented daily  at  the  Cockpit  in  Drury-lane,  at  three  in  the 
afternoon  punctually.  4to.  l638.  2.  The  History  of  Sir 
Francis  Drake;  exprest  by  instrumental  and  vocal  Music, 
&c.  4to.  1659.  At  the  end  of  the  former  of  these  is  the 
following  advertisement :  "  Notwithstanding  the  great  ex- 
**  pense  necessary  to  scenes  and  other  ornaments  in  this 
**  entertainment,  there  is  good  provision  made  of  places 
"  for  a  shilling,  and  it  shall  begin  certainly  at  three  in 
**  the  afternoon." 
^  Rosciiis  Anglicamis,  p.  17.  and  Hisioria  Hisirionica. 


XC  SUPPLEMJENT  TO 


and  two  of  them  had  been  his  apprentices  ^.  About 
the  same  time,  the  few  performers  who  had  be- 
longed to  the  old  companies  assembled,  and  began 
to  act  at  the  Red-BulP,  in  Saint  John's-street,  and 
from  the  eagerness  with  which  two  patents  were 
soon  afterwards  obtained  from  the  crown,  it  may 
be  presumed  that  they  met  with  a  considerable 
share  of  success.  Sir  William  Davenant,  before 
the  civil  wars  broke  out,  had  been  favoured  with  a 
patent'  by  Charles  the  First,  and  therefore  his 
claim  to  a  new  one  was  warranted,  as  well  by  his 
former  possession  as  by  his  services  and  sufferings 
in  the  royal  cause.  The  other  candidate  was 
9  Thomas  Killegrew,  Esq.  a  person  who  had  ren* 
dered  himself  acceptable  to  his  sovereign,  as  much 

^  Mr.  Betterton  and  Mr.  Kynaston. 

■^  Roscius  Anglicanus,  p.  1. 

^  This  patent  was  granted  14  Car.  I.  1639,  and  after- 
wards exemplified  13  Car.  II.  1661.  Both  are  recited  in, 
and  both  were  surrendered  up,  by  the  letters  patent  of 
15  Jan.  14  Car.  II.  166.'.  It  appears  by  the  patent  of 
14  Car.  I.  that  a  ne\T  playhouse  was  intended  to  be  built  on 
a  piece  of  ground  behind  the  Three  Kings'  Ordinary  in 
in  Fleet-street.  The  public  disturbances  which  began  in 
that  year  seem  to  have  prevented  the  execution  of  this 
design. 

^  See  an  account  of  him  prefixed  to  The  Parson's  Wedding, 
vol.  XI. 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  xci 


by  his  vices  and  follies  as  by  his  wit  or  attachment 
to  him  ill  his  distress. 

The  actors  who  had  been  employed  by  Rhodes 
soon  aftewards  were  taken  under  the  protection  of 
Sir  William  Davenant'^;  and  the  remains  of  the 
old  companies  were  received  by  Mr,  Killegrew; 
all  of  them  were  sworn  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain 
as  servants  of  the  crown :  the  former  being  styled 
the  Duke  of  York's  company ;  and  the  latter  that 
of  the  King^'. 

The  King's  company,  after  their  removal  from 
the  Red-Bull,  performed  in  a  new  built  house 
situated  in  Gibbons's  Tennis-Court,  near  Clare- 
market  '^.  But  this  theatre  being  not  well  adapted 
for  the  use  to  which  it  was  appropriated,  they  were 
obliged  to  erect  a  more  convenient  one  in  Drury- 
lane.  This  latter  was  finished  and  opened  on  the 
8th  day  of  Aj)ril,  1662,  with  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher's  Comedy  of  The  Humourous  Lieutenant , 
which  was  acted  twelve  nights  successively. 

'^  Roscius  Anglicaniis,  p.  19. 

*'  Cibber  says,  **  About  ten  of  the  King's  company  were 
'*  on  the  royal  household  establishment,  having-  each  ten 
"  yards  of  scarlet  cloth,  with  a  proper  quantity  of  lace 
*'  allowed  them  for  liveries ;  and,  in  their  warrants  from  the 
"  Lord  Chamberlain,  were  styled  Gentlemen  of  the  Great 
"  Chamber  :  whether  the  like  appointments  were  extended 
"  to  the  Duke's  company,  I  am  not  certain.'' — Cibhej^s  Apol. 
p.  75. 

''^  Roscius  Anglicanus,  p.  1. 


XCU  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


During  these  removals  of  the  King's  company, 
their  rivals  belonging  to  the  Duke  of  York  were 
shifting  their  places  of  performance,  and  were  some 
time  before  they  were  wholly  settled.  From  the 
Cockpit  they  went  to  a  new  theatre  built  in  Lin- 
coln's-Inn  Fields,  which  was  opened  in  the  spring 
of  the  year  1662,  after  several  of  their  plays  had 
been  rehearsed  at  Apothecaries-Hall'^.  But  this 
playhouse  was  likewise  soon  discovered  to  be  ill 
contrived  and  inconvenient,  and  Sir  William  Dave- 
nant  found  it  necessary  to  search  out  a  new  spot 
to  erect  one  more  commodious.  He  fixed  upon 
Dorset-Garden,  in  Salisbury-Court,  for  this  pur- 
pose, but  did  not  live  to  see  the  edifice  made  any 
use  of.     This  theatre  will  be  mentioned  hereafter. 

The  two  companies  being  now  established  at 
Drury-lane  and  Lincoln's-Inn  Fields,  they  each 
began  to  exert  their  endeavours  to  obtain  the 
favour  of  the  town.  The  principal  performers  in 
the  King's  company^'*  were  of  the  men,  Hart, 
Mohun,  Burt,  Wintersel,  Lacy,  Cartwright,  and 
Clun ;  to  whom,  after  the  opening  of  Drury-lane 
theatre,  w«re  added,  Joe  Haines,  Griffin,  Good- 
man, and  some  others.  Among  the  women  were 
Mrs.  Corey,  Mrs.  Marshall,  Mrs.  Knep,and  after- 
wards Mrs.  Boutel  and  Mrs.  Eleanor  Gwyn.     Of 

'5  Roicius  AnglicanuSf  p.  20. 
^*  Ibid.  p.  2. 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.       xciii 


the    Duke's    company   were    Betterton,    Sheppy, 
Kynaston,  Nokes,  Mosely,  and  Floyd,  who  had 
all    performed    under    Rhodes ;     Harris,    Price, 
Richards,  and  Blagden,  were  added  by  Sir  William 
Davenant,  who   also  about  a  year  after  received 
Smith,  Sandford,  Medburn,  and  two  others.     The 
actresses  were  Mrs.  Davenport,  Mrs.  Saunderson 
(who    afterwards   married    Mr.    Betterton),    Mrs. 
Davies,  and  Mrs.  Long ;  all  of  whom  boarded  in 
the  Patentee's  house.     Besides  these,   were  Mrs. 
Gibbs,  Mrs.  Norris,  Mrs.  Hoklen,  and  Mrs.  Jen- 
nings ;  and,  if  any  dependance  may  be  placed  on 
the  judgement  of  those  who  then  frequented  plays, 
there  were  more  excellent  performers  in  each  com- 
pany than  have  ever  been  seen  together  at  any  one 
time  since  that  period. 

The  avidity  of  the  public  for  theatrical  enter- 
tainments sufficiently  recompensed  for  a  consider- 
able time  the  assiduity  of  the  performers,  and  the 
expectations  of  those  who  adventured  their  money 
in  building  the  theatres  *\  Their  success  was, 
however,  soon  interrupted  by  national  calamities. 
In  1665,  the  plague  broke  out  in  London'^  with 
great  violence  ;  and  in  the  succeeding  year,  the  fire 
which  destroyed  the  metropolis  put  a  stop  to  the 
further  progress  of  stage-performances. 

'*  See  Hisioria  Hislrionica. 
'^  Roscius  Anglicanus,  p.  ?C. 


XCIV  SUPPLEMENT  TO 

After  a  discontinuance  of  eighteen  months,  both 
houses  were  again  opened  at  Christmas,  1666". 
The  miseries  occasioned  by  the  plague  and  fire 
were  forgotten,  and  public  diversions  were  again 
followed  with  as  much  eagerness  as  they  had  been 
before  their  interruption.  Both  companies  were 
at  first  successful ;  but  after  the  novelty  of  the 
several  performers  was  worn  away,  and  their  stock 
of  plays  had  been  repeated  until  they  became  fa- 
miliar, the  Duke's  company,  excellent  as  they  were 
allowed  to  be,  felt  their  inferiority  by  the  slender 
audiences  they  were  able  to  draw  together.  This 
consideration  induced  Sir  Wilham  Davenant  to  try 
the  effects  of  a  new  theatre,  built  with  greater 
magnificence  than  that  in  Lincoln's- Inn,  and  he 
chose  Dorset-Garden,  probably  where  the  old  play- 
house in  Salisbury-Court  stood,  as  a  proper  place 
for  the  purpose ;  but  before  this  theatre  was  finished 
he  died,  and  on  that  event  the  management  of  his 
property  therein  came  into  the  hands  of  his  widow 
Lady  Davenant,  Mr.  Betterton,  and  Mr.  Harris, 
assisted  by  Charles  Davenant,  afterwards  well 
known  as  a  politician  and  civil  lawyer.  This  new 
house  was  opened  in  November,   1671 '®,  notwith- 

*7  Roscius  Angiicanns,  p.  26. 

**  Reliquice  Baxferiancf,  fol.  l6y6,  p.  89.  p.  3d.  There 
seems  to  have  been  a  playhouse  standing  at  the  Restoration 
on  the  same  spot.  Tatham's  Play,  called  The  Rump,  was 
acted  at  Dorset-Court  in  l660. 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  XCV 


standing  the  opposition  made  to  it  by  the  city  of 
London.  But  the  opinion  of  the  publick  still  in- 
clining to  the  King's  company,  Mr.  Davenant  was 
obliged  to  have  recourse  to  a  new  species  of  enter- 
tainment. He  determined  to  call  in  the  assistance 
of  shew  and  sound,  he  increased  the  splendor  of 
his  scenery,  and  introduced  music,  singing,  and 
dancing,  into  some  of  the  pieces  represented  '^. 
Dramatic  Operas,  with  expensive  decorations,  soon 
came  into  fashion,  and  enabled  the  Duke's  com- 
pany to  obtain  an  advantage  over  their  competi- 
tors, which  they  were  not  intitled  to^°  by  their 
merit. 

Soon  after  the  Duke's  company  began  to  act  in 
their  new  theatre,  an  accident  happened  which 
must  have  disabled  their  antagonists  from  contend- 
ing with  them  for  a  short  time.  In  January, 
1671-2,  the  play-house  in  Drury-lane  took  fire, 
and  was  entirely  demolished.  The  violence  of 
the  conflagration  was  so  great,  that  between 
fifty  and  sixty  adjoining  houses  were  burnt  or 
blown  up^*.  Where  the  company  belonging  to 
this  house  removed,  I  have  not  been  able  to   dis- 


^^  Macbeth,  The  Tempest,  Psyche,  Circe,  The  Empress  of 
Morocco. 

20  Gibber's  Apolog^y,  p.  7.9- 

«'  Reliquice  Baxieriance,.  fol.  1696.  p.  89.  p.  3d.  This 
theatre,   I   believe,   was  sometimes  called  the  theatre  in 


XCVl  SUPPLEMENT   TO 


cover,  though  I  find  they  continued  to  act  in  the 
several  years  which  intervened  between  the  destru- 
tion  of  the  old  house  and  its  being  rebuilt ;  and 
from  the  series  of  plays  which  they  produced,  it 
seems  probable  that  they  immediately  occupied 
some  theatre  which  then  remained  unused  ^\  The 
proprietors  of  the  old  playhouse,  after  they  had 
recovered  the   consternation  which  this   accident 

Covent-Garden.  (See  Preface  to  The  Miser,  by  Shadwell, 
4to.  1672.)  Mr.  Walpole,  speaking-  of  Robert  Aggas,  com- 
monly called  Augus,  observes,  that  Graham,  in  his  School 
of  English  Painting-,  makes  him  the  painter  of  scenes  for 
the  playhouse  in  Covent-Garden.  Robert  Aggas  died  in 
London,  in  l679,  aged  about  (iO;^ — **  but  I  know  not,"  says 
Mr.  Walpole  (Anecdotes  of  Painting,  vol.  1.  p.  157.)  *' what 
"  the  author  1  quote  means  by  a  playhouse  in  Covent- 
**  Garden  before  the  year  1679  ;  I  suppose  it  should  be  the 
*'  theatre  in  Dorset-Gardens."  From  the  above  Preface  it 
plainly  appears,  that  the  mistake  arose  from  the  same 
house  being  sometimes  spoken  of  as  situate  in  Drury-lane ; 
and  at  other  times  in  Covent-Garden.  Graham  was,  there- 
fore, right  in  his  account.  I  find  also  an  Opera,  called 
Ariadne,  printed  in  4 to.  1673-4,  as  acted  at  the  Theatre 
Royal  in  Covent-Garden. 

'^^  Or  perhaps  a  temporary  playhouse  was  built.  This 
may  be  conjectured  from  the  following  lines  in  a  prologue, 
by  Dryden,  spoken  the  first  day  of  the  King's  house  acting 
after  the  fire : 

"  But  we  with  golden  hopes  are  vainly  fed, 
"  Talk  high,  and  entertain  t.ou  in  a  shed. 
"  Your  presence  here,  for  which  we  humbly  sue, 
*'  Will  grace  old  theatres,  and  build  up  new." 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  XCVll 


had  thrown  them  into,  resolved  to  rebuild  their 
theatre  with  such  improvements  as  might  be 
suggested  ;  and  for  that  purpose,  employed  Sir 
Christopher  Wren,  the  most  celebrated  architect 
of  his  time,  to  draw  the  design,  and  superintend 
the  execution  of  it.  The  plan  which  he  produced, 
in  the  opinion  of  those  who  were  well  able  to  judge 
of  it,  was  such  a  one  as  was  aUke  calculated  for 
the  advantage  of  the  performers  and  spectators ; 
and  the  several  alterations  afterwards  made  in  it, 
so  far  from  being  improvements,  contributed  only 
to  defeat  the  intention  of  the  architect,  and  to 
spoil  the  building  "^ 

^^  IMr.  Gibber,  speaking  of  the  alterations  made  in  the 
Hay-market  theatre,  built  by  Sir  John  Vanbrugh,  says, 
"  as  there  are  not  many  spectators  who  may  remember 
*'  what  form  the  Drury-lane  theatre  stood  in  about  forty 
''  years  ago,  before  the  old  patentee,  to  make  it  hold  more 
''  money,  took  it  into  his  head  to  alter  it,  it  were  but  jus- 
*'  tice  to  lay  the  original  figure,  which  Sir  Christopher 
'*  Wren  first  gave  it,  and  the  alterations  of  it  now  standing, 
*'  in  a  fair  light ;  that  equal  spectators  may  see,  if  they 
"  were  at  their  choice,  which  of  their  structures  would  in- 
"  cline  them  to  a  preference. — It  must  be  observed  then, 
**  that  the  area  or  platform  of  the  old  stage  projected  about 
*'  four  feet  forwarder,  in  a  semioval  figure,  parallel  to  the 
"  benches  of  the  pit  j  and  that  the  former  lower  doors  of 
"  entrance  for  the  actors  were  brought  down  between  the 
**  two  foremost  (and  then  only)  pilasters ;  in  the  place  of 
"  which  doors,  now  the  two  stage-boxes  are  fixt.  That 
*'  where   the  doors   of  entrance  now  are,  there  formerly 

VOL.  I.  h 


XCvili  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


The  new  theatre  being  finished,  was  opened  on 
the  26th  of  March,  1674.    On. this  occasion  a  Pro- 

**  stood  two  additional  side  wino^s,  in  front  to  a  full  set  of 
*'  scenes,  which  had  then  almost  a  double  effect,  in  their 
**  loftiness  and  magnificence.  By  this  original  form  ths 
"  usual  station  of  the  actors,  in  almost  every  scene  was  ad- 
"  vanced  at  least  ten  feet  nearer  to  the  audience,  than  they 
**  now  can  be ;  because,  not  only  from  the  stage's  being 
"  shortened  in  front,  but  likewise  from  the  additional  in- 
**  terposition  of  those  stage-boxes,  the  actors  (in  respect  to 
"  the  spectators,  that  fill  them)  are  kept  so  much  more 
"  backward  from  the  main  audience,  than  they  used  to  be : 
**  but  when  the  actors  were  in  possession  of  that  for- 
"  warder  space,  to  advance  upon,  the  voice  was  then  more 
*'  in  the  centre  of  the  house,  so  that  the  most  distant  ear 
*'  had  scarcethe  least  doubt,  or  difficulty,  in  hearing 
"what  fell  from  the  weakest  utterance:  all  objects 
"  were  thus  drawn  nearer  to  the  sense ;  every  painted 
**  scene  was  stronger ;  every  grand  scene  and  dance  more 
"  extended ;  every  rich  or  fijie  coloured  habit  had  a  more 
"  lively  lustre  :  nor  was  the  minutest  motion  of  a  feature 
*'  (properly  changing^  with  the  passion,  or  humour,  it  suited) 
'*  ever  lost,  as  they  frequently  must  he  in  the  obscurity  of 
"  too  great  a  distance  :  and  how  valuable  an  advantage  the 
*'  facility  of  hearing  distinctly  is  to  every  well  acted  scene, 
"  every  common  spectator  is  a  judge.  A  voice  scarce  raised 
"  above  the  tone  of  a  whisper,  either  in  tenderness,  resig- 
"  nation,  innocent  distress,  or  jealousy  suppressed,  often 
"  have  as  much  concern  with  the  heart,  as  the  clamorous 
**  passions ;  and  when,  on  any  of  these  occasions,  such  af- 
"  fecting  speeches  are  plainly  heard  or  lost,  how  wide  is 
<*  the  difference,  from  the  great  or  little  satisfaction  re- 
"  ceive<J  from  them?" — Gibber's  Apology,  edit.  1750,  p.  338, 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.     xcix 


logue  and  Epilogue  were  delivered,  both  written 
by  Mr.  Dryden  ^*,  in  which  the  plainness  and  want 
of  ornament  in  the  house,  compared  with  that  in 
Dorset  Gardens,  were  particularly  mentioned.  The 
encouragement  given  to  the  latter  on  account  of 
its  scenery  and  decorations  was  not  forgotten ; 
and  as  an  apology  for  the  deficiency  of  embellish- 
ment which  was  to  be  found  in  the  former,  the  di- 
rection of  his  Majesty  is  expressly  asserted  ^s.  That 
the  concerns  of  the  stage  were  sometimes  thought 
not  unworthy  the  notice  of  royalty  is  very  well 
known. 

The  preference  given  to  Davenant's  theatre,  on 
account  of  its  scenery  and  decorations,  alarmed 
those  belonging  to  the  rival  house.  To  stop  the 
progress  of  the  public  taste,  and  to  divert  it  to- 
wards themselves,  they  endeavoured  to  ridicule  the 
performances  which  were  so  much  followed.  The 
person  employed  was  Thomas  Duffet,  who  paro- 
died the  Tempest^  Macbeth  and  Psyche :  these  ef- 
forts were,  however,  ineffectual.  The  Duke's 
theatre  continued  to  be  frequented  ;  the  victory  of 
sound  and  shew  over  sense  aud  reason  was  as 
complete  in  the  theatre   at  this  period  as  it  hath 

2*  See  his  Works,  vol.  I!,  p.  302. 

"  *'  Yet  if  some  pride  with  want  may  be  allowed, 

**  We  in  our  plainness  may  be  justly  proud: 

/*  Our  royal  master  wiii'd  it  should  be  so  ; 

"  Whate'er  he's  pleas'd  to  own,  can  need  no  shew." 


C  SUPPLEMENT  TO 

often  been  since.  The  King's  theatre  languished ; 
but  the  great  expenses  incurred  at  the  other  di- 
minished their  gains  to  such  a  degree,  that  after  a 
few  years  the  leaders  in  each  discovered  that  it 
would  be  for  their  mutual  advantage  to  unite  their 
interests  together,  and  open  but  one  house.  Of 
those  who  originally  belonged  to  Killigrew's  com- 
pany, several  had  quitted  the  stage,  some  were 
dead,  and  the  chief  who  remained  began  to  expe- 
rience the  infirmities  of  age.  These  considerations 
induced  them  to  listen  to  overtures  from  Dave- 
nant,  Betterton,  and  Smith,  who  entered  into  an 
agreement  with  Hart  and  Kynaston,  which  ef- 
fectually detached  those  performers  from  the  King's 
theatre  ^^.  Their  revolt,  and  the  influence  which 
they  possessed,  seem  to  have  effected  the  union 
sooner  than  it  otherwise  might  have  been  agreed 
to,  though  it  could  not  have  been  prevented  any 
length  of  time  27,  having  been  recommended  by  the 
King.    The  junction  took  place  in  the  year  1682-', 

2^  This  agreement  is  printed  in  Gildon's  Life  of  Better- 
ton,  1710,  p.  8. 

*^  Gibber's  Apology,  p.  81. 

^8  Gibber  says  l684  ;  and  Derrick,  in  his  edition  of  Dry- 
den,  vol.  II.  p.  50.  hath  dated  it  in  1686.  The  date,  how- 
ever, above  set  down  is  the  true  one.  Mrs.  Barry,  who 
was  one  of  the  King's  company,  performed  in  The  Spanish 
Fryer,  which  appeared  in  the  latter  end  of  1 681,  or  the  be- 
ginning of  l6'82. 


MR.  DODSLEY'S  preface.  ci 


on  which  event  the  Duke's  company  quitted  Dor- 
set Gardens,  and  removed  to  Drury-lane.  Hart 
performed  no  more,  but  retired  on  a  pension; 
and  Mohun  soon  afterwards  died.  The  remainder 
of  the  troop  were  incorporated  with  the  Duke's, 
and  for  the  future  were  styled  the  King's  Com- 
pany. 

The  advantages  which  were  expected  to  follow 
this  junction  do  not  appear  to  have  been  the  con- 
sequence of  it.  Thougii  the  patents  were  united, 
the  profits  to  the  proprietors  and  performers  seem 
not  to  have  been  increased.  The  old  patentees 
either  sold  their  authority  to  new  adventurers,  or 
rehnquished  all  their  attention  to  the  management. 
On  the  30th  of  August,  1687,  Mr.  Charles  Dave- 
nant  assigned  his  patent  to  Alexander  Davenant,  esq. 
who,  on  the  24th  of  March,  1690,  sold  his  interest 
therein  to   Christopher    Rich^^,  a  lawyer,   whose 

25  From  the  representatives  of  this  gentleman,  the  pre- 
sent patentees  of  Covent-Garden  theatre  derive  the  autho- 
rity they  enjoy.  It  is  generally  said  and  believed,  that  the 
patent  granted  to  Killegrew  is  in  the  same  hands.  The 
obscurity  which  always  accompanies  the  transfer  of  private 
property  prevents  me  from  tracing  the  manner  in  which 
that  patent  was  disposed  of.  By  a  letter  from  Mr  Pope  to 
Aaron  Hill,  dated  22d  of  May,  !7o3,  it  is  said,  that  a  pa- 
tent not  used  was  then  in  the  hands  of  one  of  the  Davenant 
family ;  and  on  August  3 1,  in  the  same  year,  Mr.  Hill  men- 


Cll  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


name  is  often  to  be  found  in  the  future  annals  of 
the  theatre.  This  gentleman,  who  was  not  pos- 
sessed of  abilities  calculated  to  make  the  stage 
flourish  under  his  administration,  soon  contrived 
to  engross  the  whole  power  into  his  own  hands. 
By  various  instances  of  mismanagement,  he  alie- 
nated the  affections  of  the  principal  performers 
from  him,  and  by  wanton  oppressions  provoked 
them  to  attempt  their  deliverance  from  the  tyranny 
he  exercised  over  them.  An  association  of  the 
actors  was  entered  into,  with  Betterton  at  the 
head  of  it.  Their  complaint,  by  means  of  the  earl 
of  Dorset ^°,  was  laid  before  king  William,  and 
was  considered  of  sufficient  importance  to  engage 
the  attention  of  his  Majesty.  The  principal  law- 
yers at  that  period  were  consulted,  who  agreed  that 
the  grants,  from  king  Charles  to  Killegrew  and 
Davenant,  did  not  preclude  the  reigning  prince 
from  giving  a  similar  authority  to  any  person  with 
whom  he  might  chuse  to  intrust  it.  In  conse- 
quence of  this  opinion,  a  licence  was  granted  to  a 
select  number  of  the  players  to  act  in  a  separate 
theatre  for  themselves. 

This  favour  being  obtained  a  subscription  wag 

tions  an  offer  which  had  been  made  to  him  of  a  patent  on 
payment  of  400^.  a  year.    Whether  this  was  the  same  men- 
tioned by  Mr.  Pope,  I  am  unable  to  discover. 
'0  Gibber's  Apology,  p.  157- 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  CIU 


set  on  foot  for  buildiDg  a  new  theatre  within  the 
walls  of  the  Tennis-Court,  in  Lincoln's-Inn  Fields^*. 
The  people  of  quality,  to  shew  their  sense  of  the 
ill  treatment  which  the  actors  had  received,  con- 
tributed very  liberally  for  this  purpose.  The  pa- 
tentees became  sensible  of  the  folly  of  their  con- 
duct, and  to  repair  the  mischief  they  had  done 
themselves,  endeavoured  to  retain  as  many  of  the 
actors  as  they  could  engage.  To  supply  the  places 
of  some  who  had  left  them,  they  brought  a  few 
new  performers  from  the  companies  in  the  country, 
and  made  the  best  disposition  they  were  able,  to 
encounter  their  enemies. 

The  theatre  in  Lincoln's-Inn  Fields  was  opened, 
on  the  30th  of  April,  1695,  with  the  new  comedy 
of  Love  for  Love  ^"^^  which  was  acted  with  extraor- 
dinary success  during  the  remainder  of  the  season. 
The  new  adventurers,  however,  met  with  an  oppo- 
sition from  a  quarter  where  it  was  not  expected.  A 
number  of  the  inhabitants  of  Lincoln's-Inn  Fields, 
finding  themselves  incommoded  by  the  concourse 
of  coaches  which  the  playhouse  drew  together,  had 
recourse  to  the  law  to  remedy  the  inconveniences 
they  suffered.  In  Trinity  Term,  they  moved  the 
Court  of  King's  Bench  for  a  prohibition  to  re- 
strain the  company  from  acting  any  longer  at  the 

^  Gibber's  Apology,  p.  158.  '''^  Ibid.  p.  l60. 


CIV  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


new  house;  and  a  rule  being  granted,  cause  was 
shewn  against  it  in  the  succeeding  term,  when  fur- 
ther time  33  was  allo'wed  to  each  party  to  come  be- 
fore the  court  more  fully  prepared  to  support  and 
invalidate  their  several  suggestions.  The  event  of 
this  law-suit  can  only  be  conjectured  from  the  com- 
pany's being  permitted  to  act  until  their  removal  to 
the  Hay-market. 

The  prosperity  of  the  new  house  was  of  no  long 
continuance.  After  one  or  two  years'  success  the 
audiences  began  to  decline,  and  it  was  found  that 
two  rival  theatres  were  more  than  the  town  was 
able  to  support.  The  old  house  suffered  all  the 
distresses  which  obstinacy  and  ignorance  in  a  ma- 
nager at  the  head  of  a  raw,  unexperienced  set  of 
actors  could  produce.  Having  little  judgement  to 
direct  him  in  the  conduct  of  a  theatre,  he  not  only 
permitted  the  best  plays  to  be  mangled  by  the  most 
despicable  performers,  but  by  the  introduction  of 
tumblers  and  buffoons,  and  by  other  extravagances, 
brought  the  entertainments  of  the  stage  to  the 
lowest  degree  of  contempt  3*.  He  persisted,  how- 
ever, to  the  last  in  the  same  mode  of  conduct 
which  his  son  afterwards  followed,  and  by  that 
means  had  a  greater  influence  on  the  present  pub- 
lic entertainments  than  at  first  sight  would  be 
thought  probable. 

='  Skinner's  Reports,  p.  625.  3*  Cibber,  passim. 


MR.  DODSLEY'S  preface.  CV 


While  the  rival  theatres  were  contending  against 
each  other  with  inveterate  malice,  an  enemy  to  the 
very  toleration  of  dramatic  entertainments  ap- 
peared, who,  with  considerable  ability  and  with  all 
the  rigid  puritanical  maxims  of  a  severe  sect, 
attacked  the  stage  on  account  of  its  profaneness 
and  immoraUty.  This  was  the  celebrated  Jeremy 
Collier,  who  in  1697  published  a  book,  containing 
a  severe  invective  against  the  acting  of  plays,  the 
profligacy  of  the  performers,  and  the  licentiousness 
of  the  poets  ;  and  having  some  truth  and  justice  on 
his  side,  the  advocates  for  the  theatre  found  them- 
selves hard  pressed  to  answer  the  charges  brought 
against  their  favourite  diversion.  It  cannot  be 
denied  but  that  many  authors,  and  some  in  great 
favour  with  the  public,  had  written  in  a  manner 
which  warranted  the  censure  of  every  person  who 
professed  the  least  regard  to  propriety  or  decency. 
Mr.  Collier  was  opposed  by  Congreve,  Vanbrugh, 
Dryden,  Dennis,  and  others*,  with  wit  and  hu- 

*  One  of  these  "  others"  is  said  to  have  been  the  cele- 
brated Tom  Brown,  to  whom  is  ascribed  a  dramatic  piece  ri- 
diculing Jeremy  Collier,  called  *' The  Stage-beaux  tossed  in 
a  Blanket,  or  Hypocrisy  k  la  Mode,  exposed  in  the  true  pic- 
ture of  Jerry pretending  to  scourge  the  English  stage.'^ 

1704.  Those  who  have  hitherto  mentioned  this  performance, 
have  not  been  aware  that  it  is  for  the  most  part  merely  an 
adaptation  of  Moliere's  Critique  de  I'Ecole  des  Femmes*  The 
Editor  of  the  Biogr.  Dram,  says  that  the  piece  was  never 


CVl  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


mour,  but  without  confuting  the  objections  which 
had  been  started  either  against  themselves  indivi- 
dually, or  against  the  stage  in  general.  The  public 
opinion  ran  so  much  against  the  defenders  of  the 
theatre,  and  in  favour  of  their  enemy,  that  king 
William  considered  Mr.  Collier's  book  as  a  work 
which  entitled  the  author  of  it  to  some  lenity  in  a 
prosecution  then  carrying  on  in  consequence  of 
errors  in  his  political  conduct ^\  This  controversy 
produced  as  much  as  could  be  wished  for  from  it. 
Mr.  Gibber  observes,  *'  the  calling  our  dramatic 
''  writers  to  this  strict  account  had  a  very  whole - 
**  some  effect  upon  those  who  writ  after  this  time. 
"  They  were  now  a  great  deal  more  upon  their 
"  guard ;  indecencies  w^ere  no  longer  wit ;  and  by 
"  degrees  the  fair  sex  came  again  to  fill  the  boxes 
**  on  the  first  day  of  a  new  comedy  without  fear  or 
**  censure." 

To  forward  the  stage's  reformation,  prosecutions 
were  commenced  against  some  of  the  performers 
for  repeating  prophane  and  indecent  words.  ,  Se- 
veral were  found  guilty,  and  Betterton  and  Mrs. 
Bracegirdle   were   actually   fined  ^^.     These   seve- 

acted,  but  tlie  *'  Epilogue  upon  the  Reformers,^'  professes  to 
have  been  *'  spoken  by  Mr.  Wilkes,  at  the  Theatre  Royal, 
in  '*  Drury  Lane."     C. 

35  Gibber,  p.  225. 

36  Gildon's  Comparison  between  the  two  stages,  1702, 
8yo.  p.  143. 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  CVll 


rities  were  not  entirely  thrown  away.  From  this 
period  may  be  dated  the  introduction  of  that  more 
refined  taste  which  hath  done  so  much  credit  to 
the  British  theatre. 

The  managers  acting  under  the  united  patents 
had  hitherto  made  use  of  both  the  theatres  in 
Dorset-Garden^^  and  Drury-lane ;  but  about  this 
time  the  former  of  these  houses  was  deserted^*. 

^'  In  a  paper  published  by  Theoph.  Cibber  in  1733,  dur- 
ing- his  contest  with  Hi^hmore,  it  is  said  that  Dorset- 
Garden  was  used  as  a  summer  theatre. 

^  A  lottery  was  drawn  there  in  the  year  iGcjG,  as  may  be 
seen  from  the  followinsf  title  of  a  pamphlet  printed  at  that 
time :   *'  The  wheel  of  fortune   or   nothing  for  a  penny. 
*'  Being-  remarks  on  the  drawing  of  the  penny  lottery  at 
**  the  Theatre-royal  in  Dorset-Garden,  with  the  characters 
"  of  some  of  the  iionourahle  trustees,  and  all  due  acknow- 
**  legements  to  his  honour  the  undertaker.     Written  by  a 
**  person  who  was  cursed  mad  he  had  not  the  1000/.  Lot." 
4to.     In  the  preceding  year,  Settle's  Play  of  The  JVorld  in 
the  Moon  had  been  acted  there.     But  in  i700,  if  it  was  oc- 
cupied at  all,  it  must  have  been  by  rope-dancers.     In  the 
Prologue  to  The  Constant  Coup/e,  are  these  lines: 
"  Ah  friends  !  poor  Dorset-Garden- House  is  gone  ; 
*'  Our  merry  meetings  there  are  all  undone  : 
"  Quite  lost  to  us,  sure  for  some  strange  misdeeds, 
**  That  strong  dog  Sampson  puU'd  it  o'er  our  heads, 
**  Snaps  rope  like  thre  id  :  but  when  his  fortune's  told  him, 
**  He'll  hear  perhaps  of  rope  will  one  day  hold  him : 
"  At  least,  I  hope  that  our  good  natur'd  town 
"  Will  find  a  way  to  pull  his  prices  down." 


cviil  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


The  company  which  had  been  left  by  Betterton 
and  his  party,  after  struggling  with  unequal  force 
against  the  excellent  performers  who  hsted  under 
the  banner  of  that  respectable  veteran,  began  now 
to  remove  the  prejudices  which  had  been  enter- 
tained against  them,  and  to  claim  their  share  of 
applause.  Many  of  them  were  much  improved. 
They  had  the  advantage  of  youth,  and  having  had 
the  opportunity  of  exhibiting  themselves  in  new 
characters,  where  comparisons  to  their  disadvan- 
tage could  not  be  made,  they  began  to  be  viewed 
in  a  more  favourable  light.  In  the  mean  time, 
Betterton  and  some  of  his  associates  were  daily 
losing  ground  through  old  age.  Their  system  of 
management,  which  had  been  hastily  settled,  de- 
prived their  principal  friend  of  that  authority  which 
is  necessary  for  the  person  who  undertakes  to 
govern  any  body  of  people,  and  especially  those 
who  belong  to  a  theatre.  The  house  itself  was  too 
small,  and  poorly  fitted  up,  very  insufficient  for  the 
purposes  of  profit  or  splendor.  These  considera- 
tions induced  Sir  John  Vanbrugh  to  procure  sub- 
scriptions for  erecting  a  new  and  magnificent  play- 
house in  the  Hay-market,  calculated  to  do  honour 
to  the  architect  and  to  the  nation,  and  at  the  same 
time  produce  wealth  to  those  who  were  concerned 
in  it.  The  sum  of  3000/.  was  immediately  raised, 
and  the  building  begun  under  Sir  John's  direction. 
On  this  scheme  being  proposed,  it  was  agreed 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  cix 

that  Mr.  Betterton  should  assign  ^^  over  to  Van- 
brugh  his  hcence  to  perform,  and  for  the  future 
serve  only  as  an  actor  without  any  concern  in  the 
conduct  or  direction  of  the  theatre.  The  proposal 
was  readily  assented  to  on  the  part  of  Betterton. 
He  had  now  been  upon  the  stage  between  forty 
and  fifty  years,  and  found  the  infirmities  of  age  be- 
ginning to  make  inroads  upon  his  constitution. 
He  was  therefore  desirous  of  repose,  and  to  be 
relieved  from  the  fatigues  of  management.  In  the 
latter  part  of  the  year  1 704^  he  performed  his  part 
of  the  agreement  by  surrendering  to  Sir  John 
Vanbrugh  all  his  right  and  interest  in  the  licence 
granted  to  him.  The  new  proprietor  associated 
himself  with  Mr.  Congreve,  and,  from  the  joint 
abilities  of  such  excellent  writers,  great  expecta- 
tions were  formed.  On  the  Qth  day  of  April, 
1705,  the  theatre  was  opened  with  an  ItaHan 
Opera,  which  did  not  meet  with  the  success  ex- 
pected from  it''^^  and  a  Prologue  written  by  Sir 
Samuel  Garth.  The  failure  of  their  first  hope 
obHged  the  principal  manager  to  exert  himself; 
and  he  accordingly,  with  that  happy  facility  which 
accompanied  him  in  writing,  immediately  produced 

'^  Downes,  p.  47. 

^°  The  foundation  stone  of  this  theatre  was  laid  by  Lady 
Harriet  Godolphin,  says  Curll ;  but  according  to  others,  by 
Lady  Sunderland,  and  upon  it  was  inscribed  The  little  Wliig' 
Dr.  Garth's  Prologue  is  printed  in  his  Works. 


ex  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


no  less  than  £01114'  new  pieces.     But  these  were 
insufficient  to  bring  the  theatre   into   reputation. 
It  was  soon  found,  that  the   architect   of  it  was 
better  qualified  to  support  the  stage  by  his  writings 
than  to  build  houses  to  act  them  in.     Every  piece 
represented  appeared  under  manifest  disadvantage. 
The  edifice  was  a  vast  triumphal  piece  of  archi- 
tecture, wholly  unfit  for  every  purpose  of  conve- 
nience ;  the  vast  columns,  the  gilded  cornices,  and 
lofty  roofs,   availed   very  little,  when   scarce  one 
word  in  ten  could  be  distinctly  heard,  for  it  had 
not  then  the  form   it   has   now.     "  At   the   first 
**  opening  it,"  says  Mr.  Gibber,  *'  the  flat  ceiling, 
*'  that  is  now  over  the  orchestre,  was  then  a  semi- 
*'  oval  arch,  that  sprung  fifteen  feet  higher  from 
**  above  the  cornice.     The  ceiUng  over  the  pit  too 
**  was  still  more  raised,  being  one  level  line  from 
*'  the  highest  back  part  of  the  upper  gallery  to  the 
"  front  of  the  stage ;  the  front  boxes  were  a  con- 
*'  tinned  semicircle  to  the  bare  walls  of  the  house 
**  on  each  side:  this  extraordinary  and  superfluous 
'*  space   occasioned  such    an  undulation  from  the 
'*  voice  of  every  actor,  that  generally  what  they 
**  said  sounded  like  the  gabbling  of  so  many  people 
*'  in  the  lofty  isles  in  a  cathedral — The  tone  of  a 
"  trumpet,   or  the  swell  of  an    eunuch's   holding 

*i  The  Confederacy ;  The  Cuckold  in  Conceit ;  Squire  Treeloby  ; 
and  The  Mistake. — Gibber's  Apology,  p.  263. 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  cxi 


*'  note,  'tis  true,  might  be  sweetened  by  it ;  but 
*'  the  articulate  sounds  of  a  speaking  voice  were 
*'  drowned  by  the  hollow  reverberations  of  one  word 
*'  under  another *2."  To  these  disadvantages  the 
situation  might  be  added  ;  it  had  not  at  that  time 
the  benefit  of  a  large  city,  which  hath  since  been 
built  in  its  neighbourhood,  and  it  was  too  remote 
from  the  then  frequenters  of  the  theatre  to  be  much 
attended  by  them.  All  these  circumstances  unit- 
ing together  afforded  so  little  prospect  of  profit  or 
success,  that  in  a  few  months  Mr.  Congreve  gave 
up  his  share  and  interest  wholly  to  Sir  John  Van- 
brugh"^^;  who,  at  the  end  of  the  second  season, 
either  finding  the  gains  which  arose  from  the 
management  too  few,  or  the  trouble  arising  from 
his  attendance  on  it  too  much,  grew  also  disgusted 
with  his  situation,  and  wished  to  be  relieved  from 
it.  But  of  so  little  value  was  the  theatre  consi- 
dered at  that  juncture,  that  no  person  thought  it 
of  consequence  enough  to  apply  for  it.  At  length 
it  was  offered  to  Mr.  Owen  Swiney,  a  mere  ad- 
venturer without  property,  who  had  been  employed 
by  Mr.  Rich  as  under-manager,  and  who,  with  the 
concurrence  of  his  principal,  agreed  for  it  at  the 
rate  of  five  pounds  for  every  acting  day,  and  not  to 
exceed  700/.  in  the  year.  The  new  manager 
entered  upon  his  undertaking  in  the  latter  part  of 

*2  Gibber's  Apol.  p.  239.  *»  Ibid.  p.  263. 


CXU  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


the  year  1706,  and  at  the  end  of  the  first  season 
found  that  he  had  considerably  improved  his  for- 
tune. 

From  the  time  that  Mr.  "Rich  got  possession  of 
Drury-lane  theatre,  he  had  paid  no  regard  to  the 
property  of  any  of  the  parties  who  had  joint  inte- 
rests with  him,  but  proceeded  as  though  he  was 
sole  proprietor  of  it.  Whatever  he  received  he 
kept  to  himself,  without  accounting  to  any  of  his 
partners ;  and  he  had  continued  this  mode  of  con- 
duct so  long,  that  those  who  had  any  claims  on  the 
theatre  abandoned  them  in  despair  of  ever  receiv- 
ing any  advantage  from  them.  The  concerns  of 
the  play-house  were  thought  of  so  little  worth, 
that  about  this  time  Sir  Thomas  Skip  with,  who 
Gibber  says  had  an  equal  right  *^  with  Rich,  in  a 
froHc,  made  a  present  of  his  share  to  Colonel  Brett, 
a  gentleman  of  fortune,  who  soon  after  forced  him- 
self into  the  management  much  against  the  inclina- 
tion of  his  partner.  The  ill  effect  of  two  play- 
houses being  open  at  once,  in  point  of  profit, 
appeared  so  evident  to  Mr.  Brett,  that  the  first 
object  he  dedicated  his  attention  to  was  a  reunion 
of  the  two  companies,  and,  through  the  interposition 

*^  Gibber's  Apol.  p.  300.  If  this  is  a  fact,  it  may  be 
presumed  that  the  patent  granted  to  Killegrevv,  either  in 
part  or  the  whole,  was  vested  in  him.  It  does  not  appear 
how  he  became  intitled  to  it. 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  CXlU 


of  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  he  effected  it  in  the  year 
I7O8.  It  W..S  then  resolved,  that  the  theatre  in 
the  Hay-market  should  be  appropriated  to  Italian 
Operas;  and  that  in  Drury-lane  to  Plays.  The 
one  was  given  to  Swiney,  and  the  other  continued 
with  Rich  and  Brett ;  the  latter  of  whom  conduct- 
ing the  business  of  it  in  a  different  manner  from 
what  it  had  heretofore  been,  brought  it  once  more 
into  so  good  a  state,  that  Sir  Thomas  Skipwith 
repented  of  his  generosity,  and  applied  to  the  Court 
of  Chancery  to  have  the  property  he  had  given 
away  restored  him.  Colonel  Brett,  offended  at 
this  treatment,  relinquished  his  claim;  and  AJr. 
Hich  again  possessed  himself  of  all  the  powers  of 
the  patent. 

Instead  of  being  warned  by  the  experience  of 
past  times,  to  avoid  the  difficulties  which  a  tyran- 
nical and  oppressive  behaviour  to  the  performers 
had  occasioned,  the  acting  manager  resumed  his 
former  conduct,  without  fearing  or  apprehending 
any  resistance  to  his  measures.  An  application  to 
the  Lord  Chamberlain  was  the  consequence  ;  and 
that  officer,  who  was  supposed  to  possess  both  an 
absolute  and  undefinable  authority  over  the  stage, 
agreed  to  permit  as  many  of  the  actors  as  chose  to 
engage  with  Swiney  to  desert  from  Drury-lane,  and 
act  at  the  Hay-market  *\     A  private  treaty  was 

**  Gibber's  Apol  p.  33i. 
VOL.  I.  i 


CXIV  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


accordingly  entered  into  ;  and  Wilks,  Dogget,  and 
Gibber,  were  proposed  to  be  managers  and  joint- 
sharers  with  Swiuey  in  conducting  the  theatre,  which 
for  the  future  was  ^o  be  used  both  as  a  Play-house 
and  Opera-house.  After  all  the  preliminaries  were 
settled,  the  Lord  Chamberlain  issued  an  order, 
dated  7th  of  June,  1709,  forbidding  the  patentees 
to  perform  any  longer;  on  which  the  house  was 
shut  up. 

The  deserters  immediately  began  to  alter  the 
Hay-market  theatre,  in  order  to  obviate  the  incon- 
veniences of  its  original  construction,  and  make  it 
fit  for  the  representation  of  dramatic  performances. 
They  began  to  act  in  the  winter  of  the  year  1/09 ; 
and  their  audiences  so  much  exceeded  their  expec- 
tations *^,  that  they  would  have  had  every  reason 
to  be  content  with  the  change  which  had  happened; 
if  the  direction  of  the  Operas,  which  this  season 
began  to  decline,  had  not  greatly  diminished  their 
profits.  On  the  whole,  however,  they  appear  to 
have  received  more  than  tliey  had  done  at  Drury- 
lane,  and  therefore  were  not  dissatisfied  with  their 
emancipation  from  the  authority  of  their  former 
governor. 

The  power  of  the  Chamberlain  had  always  been 
implicitly  acknowledged.  Those  therefore  who 
had  any  concern  in  the  interdicted  theatre  patiently 

^^  Gibber's  Apol.  p.  345. 


MR.  DODSLEY   S  PREFACE.  CXV 


submitted  to  the  prohibition,  and  had  recourse 
only  to  supplications  in  order  to  procure  a  revoca- 
tion of  the  silencing  order.  As  it  was  put  in 
execution  so  late  in  the  season,  no  immediate 
detriment  ensued ;  and  it  was  generally  expected, 
that  as  the  time  of  acting  approached  in  the  follow- 
ing winter,  the  proprietors  would  be  permitted  to 
open  their  house.  The  summer  was  taken  up  in  peti- 
tions to  the  Chamberlain,  and  appeals  to  the  Queen's 
justice  and  humanity,  both  from  the  patentees  and 
players.  The  applications,  however,  were  not 
crowned  with  success  ;  the  order  was  still  con- 
tinued in  force,  and  at  the  beginning  of  the  season 
one  theatre  only  employed. 

As  soon  as  it  appeared  with  certainty  that  the  old 
manager  would  not  be  able  to  obtain  a  recall  of  the 
order  for  silencing  the  patent,  one  who  had  some 
property  in  the  house,  and  who  had  joined  in  all 
the  applications  to  be  relieved  against  the  Cham- 
berlain's mandate,  determined  to  avail  himself  of 
his  interest  at  court,  and  profit  by  the  distress  of 
his  partners.  This  was  William  Collier,  Esq.  a 
lawyer''^  of  an  enterprizing  head  and  a  jovial  heart. 
He  was  a  member  of  parliament,  and  by  his  con- 
vivial qualities  had  become  a  favourite  with  the 
people  then  in  power,  and  was  often  admitted  to 
partake  with  them  in  those  detached  hours  of  life 
when  business  was  to  give  way  to  pleasure. 
•*7  Gibber's  Apol.  p.  345. 


CXVl  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


This  gentleman,  observing  the  situation  of  thea- 
trical affairs  to  be  desperate  in  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Rich,  applied  for  and  obtained  a  license  to  take 
the  management  of  the  company  left  at  Drury-lane. 
The  late  patentee,  who  still  continued  in  the 
theatre,  though  without  the  power  of  using  it,  was 
not  to  be  removed  without  compulsion.  Mr.  Col- 
lier, therefore,  procured  a  lease  of  the  house  from 
the  landlords  of  it,  and  armed  with  this  authority 
took  the  advantage  of  a  rejoicing  ''a  night,  the  22d 
of  November;  when,  with  a  hired  rabble,  he  broke 
into  it,  and  turned  the  former  owner  out  of  posses- 
sion. 

Here  ended  the  power  of  Mr.  Rich  over  the 
theatres.  After  his  expulsion  from  Drury-lane,  he 
employed  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  rebuilding 
the  playhouse  in  Lincoln's-Inn  Fields,  which  was 
opened  about  six  weeks  after  his  death,  by  his  son, 
in  the  5'ear  1714,  with  the  Comedy  of  The  Recruit- 
ing Officer*^.  Both  this  theatre  and  its  manager 
will  be  mentioned  hereafter. 

^*  Gibber's  Apology,  p.  346.  A  ludicrous  account  of  this 
transaction  is  given  in  the  Taller,  No.  99. 

^^  On  this  occasion  I  have  been  informed  by  a  gentleman 
who  was  present,  that  a  Prologue  was  spoken  by  the  new 
manager  dressed  in  mourning. 

This  Prologue  I  since  find  to  l)e  in  print,  in  a  collection 
called  ''  A  new  Miscellany  of  Tales,  Songs,  and  Poems. 
By  several  hands."  12mo.  n.  d.  p.  61.  It  concluded  with 
these  lines ; 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  CXVll 


The  scheme  which  Mr.  Collier  had  engaged  in 
did  not  prosper  according  to  his  wishes ;  the  pro- 
fits of  the  season  were  very  small,  and  by  no  means 
a  compensation  for  the  trouble,  risk,  and  expence, 
which  he  had  been  at  in  seating  himself  on  the 
theatrical  throne.  The  joint-sharers  at  the  Hay- 
market  had  acquired  both  fame  and  money ;  he 
therefore  meditated  an  exchange  of  theatres  with 
them,  and,  by  again  employing  his  influence  at 
court,  soon  effected  it.  By  the  agreement  which 
was  then  entered  into  between  the  rival  managers, 
the  sole  licence  for  acting  plays  was  vested  in 
Swiney  and  his  partners ;  and  the  performance  of 
Operas  was  to  be  confined  to  the  Hay-market 
under  the  direction  of  Collier*^. 

The  authority  which  this  gentleman  had  now 
obtained  in  the  Opera-house,  he  immediately  farmed 
to   ^' Aaron  Hill,  Esq.  for  600/.  per  annum;   but 

"  But  oh,  my  poor  father!  alas  he  died 
**  Ere  he  beheld  this  house  in  finish'd  pride. 
**  He  rais'd  the  stately  pile  by  slow  degrees, 
*'  Big  with  the  hopes  a  curious  town  to  please. 
"  Let  jrenerous  pity  move  the  brave  and  fair 
**  To  take  his  poor  remains  unto  your  care  : 
"  Who  dies  in  love,  a  martyr's  pity  draws 
"  From  all  ;  then  let  him  share  the  same  applause, 
"  Who  died  a  martyr  for  this  good  old  cause. 
**  Still  let  true  noDle  gratitude  be  shewn, 
**  And  for  a  father's  sake  support  the  son !"    I.  R. 
^  Gibber's  Apology,  p.  353.  5'  Ibid.  356. 


CXVUl  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


before  the  season  expired  he  resumed  the  manage- 
ment again  into  his  own  hands.  The  flourishing 
state  of  Drury-hme  had  attracted  his  notice  and 
envy.  He  grew  again  dissatisfied  with  his  station, 
and  proposed  once  more  to  return  to  the  stage  he 
had  abandoned.  The  same  power  which  had 
hitherto  supported  him  in  his  caprices  still  con- 
tinued to  favour  him.  Swiney  was  obliged  to  re- 
turn to  the  Hay-market;  and  CoHier,  Wilks, 
Dogget,  and  Gibber,  remained  at  Drury-lane» 
where  from  this  period  the  abilities,  industry,  and 
integrity  of  the  manasrers  brought  their  theatre 
into  so  much  re^putation,  that  it  became  to  them 
the  source  of  independence  during  the  rest  of  their 
lives.  At  the  end  of  the  first  season,  Swiney  was 
ruined  at  the  Hay-market,  and  obliged  to  banish 
himself  from  the  kino^flom. 

As  soon  as  the  new  regulation  was  settled. 
Collier  rendered  his  share  a  sinecure,  and  agreed 
to  accept  a  certain  sum  annually  in  lieu  of  all 
claims.  In  1712,  the  IVagedy  of  Cato  was  acted, 
wherein  Mr.  Booth  acquired  so  much  reputation, 
that  he  was  encouraged  to  solicit  for  a  share  in  the 
management  of  the  theatre,  and  was  gratified  in  it 
during  the  succeeding  year.  On  his  introduction, 
Dogget,  in  disgust,  retired  from  the  management, 
to  which  he  never  afterwards  returned. 

In  the  year  1714,  Queen  Anne  died ;  and, 
amongst  the   changes  which   that  event  brought 


CXIX 


about,  the  management  of  Drury-lane  theatre  was 
not  too  inconsiderable  to  attract  the  notice  of  the 
court.  At  the  desire  of  the  acting  managers^  Sir 
Richard  Steele  procured  his  name  to  be  inserted 
instead  of  Collier's  in  a  new  licence  jointly  with 
them;  and  this  connection  lasted  many  years 
equally  to  the  advantage  of  all  the  parties.  In  this 
year,  the  prohibition  which  the  patent  had  been 
long  under  was  removed,  and  Lincoln's-Tnn  Fields 
theatre  opened  under  the  direction  of  the  late  Mr. 
John  Rich. 

No  sooner  were  dramatic  performances  per- 
mitted at  two  theatres,  than  the  manager  of  the 
weaker  company  was  obliged  to  have  recourse  to 
foreign  aid,  and  to  oppose  his  antagonists  with 
other  weapons  than  the  merits  of  his  actors,  or  the 
excellence  of  the  pieces  represented  by  them. 
The  performers  who  were  under  Mr.  Rich's  direc- 
tion were  so  much  inferior  to  those  at  Drury-lane, 
that  the  latter  carried  away  all  the  applause  and 
favour  of  the  town.  In  this  distress,  the  genius  of 
the  new  manager  suggested  to  him  a  species  of  en- 
tertainment, which  hath  always  been  considered  as 
contemptible,  but  which  at  the  same  time  hath  been 
ever  followed  and  encouraged.  Pantomimes  were 
now  brought  forwards;  and,  as  sound  and  shew 
had  in  the  last  century  obtained  a  victory  over 
sense  and  reason,  the  same  event  would  have 
followed  again,  if  the  company  at  Drury-lane  had 


CXX  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


not,  from  the  experience  of  past  times,  thought  it 
advisable  to  adopt  the  same  measures.  The  fer- 
tility of  Mr.  Rich's  invention  in  these  exotic  enter- 
tainments, and  the  excellence  of  his  performances 
in  them  must  be  ever  acknowledged.  By  means 
of  these  only,  he  kept  the  managers  of  the  other 
house  at  all  times  from  relaxing  their  diligence ; 
and,  to  the  disgrace  of  public  taste,  frequently  ob- 
tained more  money  by  such  ridiculous  and  paltry 
performances  than  all  the  sterling  merit  of  the  other 
house  was  able  to  acquire. 

The  business  of  the  stage  was  carried  on  success- 
fully, and  without  interruption,  until  about  the  year 
1720,  when  on  a  disgust  which  the  duke  of  New- 
castle, then  Lord  Chamberlain,  had  received  from 
Mr.  Gibber  ^^  that  gentleman  was  for  some  time 

s2  The  author  of  a  Pamphlet,  called  *'  The  State  of  the 
"  Case,  between  the  Lord  Chamberlain  of  his  Majesty's 
*'  Household  and  Sir  Richard  Steele,  as  represented  by  that 
"  Knicrht,  restated,''  &c.  p.  30.  mentions  some  strokes 
levelled  at  the  ministry,  in  Mr.  Cibber's  Dedication  of 
Ximena  to  Sir  Richard  Steele,  and  these  were  likely  to  have 
been  what  gave  offence.  The  same  writer,  however,  after- 
wards asserts  the  following  to  have  been  the  real  cause: 
**  My  lord  Duke  had  a  mind  to  have  a  certain  part  per- 
**  formed  by  a  certain  actor,  which  was  generally  acted  by 
**  one  of  the  managers  ;  and  when  my  lord  urged  his  autho- 
*'  rity  to  enforce  his  commands,  Cibber,  visibly  slighting 
**  his  authority  in  half  a  laugh,  said,  that  they  were  a  sort 
"  of  separate  ministry,  and  so  absolutely  refused  to  obey 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  CXX 


forbid  to  perform ;  and  soon  after  a  difference 
arising  between  tlie  same  nobleman  and  Sir  Richard 
Steele,  the  power  which  had  been  often  exercised 
by  the  persons  who  had  held  his  grace's  office  was 
exerted,  and  an  order  of  silence  was  enforced 
against  the  managers.  On  this  occasion  a  contro- 
versy succeeded ;  but  how  long  the  prohibition 
lasted,  or  in  what  manner  the  difference  was  ad- 
justed no  where  appears. 

In  this  year,  1720,  a  new  playhouse  was  erected 
in  the  Hay-market  by  one  Mr.  Potter,  a  carpen- 
ter ^3.  It  was  not  built  for  any  particular  person 
or  company,  but  seems  to  have  been  intended  as  a 
mere  speculation  by  the  architect,  who  relied  on  its 
being  occasionally  hired  for  dramatic  exhibitions. 

The  harmony  which  had  subsisted  for  many 
years  between  Sir  Richard  Steele  and  his  partners 
was  soon  afterwards  interrupted,  and  the  affairs  of 
the  theatre  became  again  the  objects  of  a  chancery 
litigation,  which,  in  17*26,  was  determined  in  favour 

**  my  Lord  Chamberlain ;  upon  which  he  was  silenced.'* 
Sir  Richard,  liowever,  in  his  state  of  the  case,  asserts,  that 
all  the  mortification  put  upon  Mr.  Cil)ber  "  was  intended 
"  only  as  a  remote  beginning-  of  evils  which  were  to  affect 
**  the  patentee."  During-  the  time  that  the  order  for  silencing 
Mr.  Gibber  was  in  force,  Southerne's  Tragedy  of  The  Spartan 
Dame  was  acted,  and  the  part  of  Crites  intended  for  that 
performer  was  obliged  to  be  read  by  another  actor. 
^^  Victor's  History  of  the  Theatres,  vol.  3.  p.  184. 


CXXll  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


of  the  acting  proprietors*'*  by  a  decree  of  Sir 
Joseph  Jekyl!,  then  Master  of  the  Rolls.  The 
breach,  however,  which  this  dispute  had  made 
would  perhaps  never  have  been  healed,  had  Sir 
Richard  been  able  to  have  resumed  his  share  of  the 
management.  His  faculties  at  this  time  began  to 
dechne :  he  soon  afterwards  retired  into  Wales, 
where  he  died  on  the  1st  of  September,  1/29. 

As  the  powers  of  the  patent  granted  to  him 
terminated  at  the  end  of  three  years  after  his  death, 
the  remaining  managers  solicited  and  obtained  a 
renewal  of  the  authority  for  twenty  one  years  com- 
mencing on  the  1st  of  September,  1732;  but  the 
prosperous  course  of  their  affairs  was  doomed 
about  this  time  to  be  first  checked,  and  afterwards 
put  an  end  to  by  the  illness  and  deaths  of  the 
principal  persons  concerned  in  the  theatre.  Booth 
was  rendered  incapable  of  performing  for  several 
years  before  he  died.  On  the  23d  of  October, 
1730,  the  stage  suffered  an  irreparable  loss  by  the 
death  of  Mrs.  Oldfield ;  and  about  the  same  time 
Mrs.  Porter  was  prevented  from  acting  by  the 
misfortune  of  a  dislocated  limb.  To  complete  the 
whole,  Wilks  died  in  September,  1731 ;  and 
Gibber,  disliking  his  new  partners,  grew  weary  of 
his  share,  and  took  the  earliest  opportunity  of 
parting  with  it. 

^*  Cibber  s  Apology,  p.  436. 


MR.  dodsley's  preface.  cxxiu 


The  number  of  theatres  in  London  was  this  year, 
1729,  increased  by  the  addition  of  one  in  Good- 
man's Fields,  which  met  with  great  opposition  from 
many  respectable  merchants  and  grave  citizens, 
who  apprehended  much  mischief  from  the  intro- 
duction of  these  kind  of  diversions  so  near  to  their 
own  habitations.  Some  of  the  clergy"  also  took 
the  alarm,  and  preached  with  much  vehemence 
against  it.  Mr.  Odell,  however,  the  proprietor, 
was  not  deterred  from  pursuing  his  design ;  he 
completed  the  building,  and,  having  collected  a 
company,  began  to  perform  in  it.  It  is  asserted, 
that  for  some  time  he  got  not  less  than  one  hun- 
dred pounds  a  week  by  this  undertaking;  but  the 
clamour  against  it  continuing  ^^,  he  was  obliged  to 
abandon  the  further  prosecution  of  his  scheme ;  by 
which  means  he  sustained  a  considerable  loss.  It 
was  afterwards  revived  by  Mr.  Giffard  with  some 
degree  of  success. 

The  patent  for  Drury-lane  being  renewed,  Mr. 
Booth,  who  found  his  disorder  increase,  began  to 
think  it  was  time  to  dispose  of  his  share  and  inte- 

*^  A  Sermon  was  preached  against  it  at  St.  Botolph, 
Aldgate,  on  30th  of  November,  1729,  by  Arthur  Bedford, 
M.  A.     It  was  printed  in  the  next  year. 

^^  It  is  asserted  in  a  Pamphlet,  called  "  The  Usefulness 
*'  of  the  Stage  to  Religion  and  Government/'  &c.  8vo.  1738, 
that  an  address  was  presented  to  the  king  from  the  lord 
mayor  and  court  of  aldermen  for  the  suppressing  of  it. 


CXXlV  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


rest  in  the  theatre.  The  person  upon  whom  he 
fixed  for  a  purchaser  was  John  Highmore,  Esq. 
a  gentleman  of  fortune,  who  unhappily  had  con- 
tracted an  attachment  to  the  stage,  from  having 
performed  the  part  of  Lothario  one  night  for  a 
wager.  A  treaty  between  them  was  set  on  foot 
soon  after  Mr.  Wilks's  death,  and  was  concluded 
by  Mr.  Highmore's  agreeing  to  purchase  one  half 
of  Mr.  Booth's  share,  with  the  whole  of  his  power 
in  the  management,  for  the  sum  of  two  thousand 
five  hundred  pounds.  Before  his  admission,  Mrs. 
Wilks  had  deputed  Mr.  ElHs  to  attend  to  the  con- 
duct of  the  theatre  in  her  behalf.  The  introduc- 
tion of  two  people  into  the  management,  who  were 
totally  unqualified  either  by  their  abilities  or  expe- 
rience for  the  offices  they  were  to  fill,  gave  offence 
to  Mr.  Gibber:  he,  therefore,  to  avoid  being 
troubled  with  the  importance  of  the  one  or  the 
ignorance  of  the  other  of  his  brethren,  authorized 
his  son  Theophilus  to  act  for  him  as  far  as  his  in- 
terest was  concerned.  The  first  season  was  ended 
with  some  profit  to  the  new  patentees;  but  Mr. 
Highmore,  being  hurt  by  the  impertinence  of 
young  Gibber,  determined  to  get  rid  of  his  inter- 
ference, and  purchased  the  father's  share  for  the 
sum  of  three  thousand  guineas  *?. 

This  second    purchase   by  Mr.   Highmore  was 

*7  Victor's  History  of  the  Theatres,  vol.  1.  p.  8. 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  CXXV 


made  at  the  beginning  of  the  season  of  1733, 
about  the  same  time  that  Mrs.  Booth  sold  her  hus- 
band's remaining  share  to  Mr.  Giffard.  Mr.  High- 
more's  connection  with  the  theatre  began  now  to 
be  attended  with  alarming  consequences  to  him  ; 
two  weeks  had  hardly  passed  before  the  principal 
actors,  spirited  up  by  young  Gibber,  determined  to 
revolt  from  the  patentees,  and  set  up  for  them- 
selves. The  house  called  the  little  Theatre  in  the 
Hay-market  was  then  unoccupied ;  they  therefore 
agreed  to  rent  it  of  the  proprietor,  and,  after 
making  the  necessary  alterations,  opened  it  with 
the  Comedy  of  Love  for  Love,  to  an  elegant 
crowded  audience  ^^ 

The  patentees  also,  though  weakened  by  the 
desertion  of  their  best  performers,  began  to  act 
at  the  usual  time.  To  supply  the  places  of  those 
who  had  left  their  service,  they  were  obliged  to 
have  recourse  to  such  assistance  as  the  country 
companies  would  afford.  With  all  the  help  they 
could  obtain,  their  performances  were  so  much  in- 
ferior to  those  exhibited  at  the  Hay-market,  that  a 
constant  loss  was  sustained  until  the  end  of  the 
season.  Mr.  Highmore  in  the  mean  time  buoyed 
himself  up  with  hopes  of  obtaining  redress,  first 
from  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  and  afterwards  by 
putting   the    laws   coDcerning   vagrants    in   force 

^8  Victor's  History  of  the  Theatres,  vol.  i.  p   il. 


CXXVl  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


against  the  delinquent  players.  In  both  these  ex- 
pectations he  found  himself  disappointed.  The 
losses  fell  so  heavy  upon  him,  that  he  was  under 
the  necessity  of  giving  up  the  contention,  in  order 
to  secure  a  small  part  of  the  property  he  had  impru- 
dently risked  in  this  unfortunate  undertaking. 

The  person  who  now  succeeded  to  the  patent  of 
Drury-lane  playhouse  was  Charles  Fleetwood,  a 
gentleman  who  at  one  peripd  of  his  life  had  pos- 
sessed a  very  large  fortune,  of  which  at  this  time  a 
small  portion  only  remained.  He  purchased  not 
only  the  share  belonging  to  Mr.  Higbmore,  but 
those  of  all  the  other  partners ;  and  so  little  value 
was  then  set  upon  the  theatre,  that  the  whole  sum 
which  he  disbursed  for  it  little  more  than  exceeded 
the  half  of  what  Mr.  Higbmore  had  before  paid. 
The  revolting  actors  were  by  this  time  become  dis- 
satisfied with  their  situations.  A  treaty  was  there- 
fore opened,  and  soon  concluded,  for  their  return 
to  Drury-lane. 

Although  dramatic  entertainments  were  not  at 
this  time  supported  by  the  abilities  of  any  actors  of 
extraordinary  merit,  and  the  characters  of  those 
excellent  performers  who  had  lately  been  lost  from 
Drury-lane  were  very  ill  supplied,  yet  this  period 
seems  to  have  been  particularly  marked  by  a  spirit 
of  enterprize  which  prevailed  in  theatrical  affairs. 
The  ill  fortune  of  Mr.  Odell  at  Goodman's  Fields 
had  not  extinguished  the  expectations  of  another 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  CXXVU 


schemer,  who  solicited  and  obtained  a  subscription 
for  building  a  magnificent  playhouse  59  in  that  part 
of  the  town  ;  and  in  spite  of  all  opposition  it  was 
completed  and  opened  on  the  2d  day  of  October, 
1732,  with  the  play  of  King  Henry  IV.  Mr.  Gif- 
fard  the  new  proprietor,  however,  did  not  remain 
long  there.  In  1733,  the  house  in  Covent-Garden 
was  finished,  and  Mr.  Rich's  company  immediately 
removed  thither,  which  occasioned  the  old  building 
in  Lincoln's-Inn  Fields  to  be  deserted.  Mr.  Gif- 
fard  was  then  advised,  that  it  would  be  more  for 
his  advantage  to  quit  Goodman's  Fields,  and  take 
the  vacant  edifice.  He  accordingly  agreed  for  it 
in  1735,  and  acted  there  during  the  two  ensuing 
years. 

Soon  afterwards,  though  at  a  time  when  so  many 
theatres  were  employed  to  divert  the  public,  and 


^^  "  In  a  large  oval  over  the  pit  is  painted  the  figure  of 
"  his  Majesty,  attended  by  peace,  liberty,  and  justice, 
•^  trampling  tyranny  and  oppression,  under  his  feet :  round 
"  it  are  the  heads  of  Shakespeare,  Dryden,  Congreve,  and 
*'  Betterton  :  on  the  coving  of  the  left  hand  is  painted  the 
"  scene  of  Cato  pointing  to  the  dead  body  of  his  son  Mar- 
"  cus  :  in  the  middle,  that  of  Julius  Caesar  stabbed  in  the 
"  Senate-house :  and  on  the  right,  that  of  Mark  Anthony 
*'  and  Octavia,  where  the  children  are  introduced  in  AH  for 
*'  Love  :  on  the  sounding  board  over  the  stage  is  a  hand- 
'*  some  piece  of  painting  of  Apollo  and  the  nine  Muses." 
Gent.  31ag.  I? 32,  p.  1028. 


CXXVlll  SUPPLEMENT   TO 


when  none  of  them  were  in  a  flourishing  state,  the 
imprudence  and  extravagance  of  a  gentleman,  who 
possessed  genius,  wit,  and  humour  in  a  high  de- 
gree, obliged  him  to  strike  out  a  new  species  of 
entertainment,  which  in  the  end  produced  an  ex- 
traordinary change  in  the  constitution  of  the  dra- 
matic system.  To  extricate  himself  out  of  diffi- 
culties in  which  he  was  involved,  and  probably  to 
revenge  some  indignities  which  had  been  thrown 
upon  him  by  people  in  power,  that  admirable 
painter  and  accurate  observer  of  life,  the  late  Henry 
Fielding,  determined  to  amuse  the  town  at  the  ex- 
pence  of  some  persons  in  high  rank,  and  of  great 
influence  in  the  political  world.  For  this  purpose  he 
got  together  a  company  of  performers,  who  exhi- 
bited at  the  theatre  in  the  Hay  market,  under  the 
whimsical  title  of  the  Great  Mogul's  Company  of 
Comedians.  The  piece  he  represented  was  Pas- 
quin,  which  was  acted  to  crowded  audiences  for 
fifty  successive  nights.  Encouraged  by  the  fa- 
vourable reception  this  performance  met  with,  he 
determined  to  continue  at  the  same  place  the  next 
season,  when  he  produced  several  new  plays,  some 
of  which  were  applauded,  and  the  rest  condemned. 
As  soon  as  the  novelty  of  the  design  was  over,  a 
visible  difference  appeared  between  the  audiences 
of  the  two  years.  The  company,  which  as  the 
play-bills  said  dropped  from  the  clouds,  were  dis- 
banded ;  and  the  manager,  not  having  attended  to 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  CXXIX 


the  voice  of  economy  in  his  prosperity,  was  left 
no  richer  or  more  independent  than  when  he  first 
engaged  in  the  project. 

The  severity   of   Mr.  Fielding's  satire   in  these 
pieces  had  galled  the  minister  to  that  degree,  that 
the  impression  was  not  erased  from  his  mind  when 
the  cause  of  it  had  lost  all  effect.     He  meditated 
therefore  a  severe  revenge  on  the  stage,  and  de- 
termined to  prevent  any  attacks  of  the  like  kind  for 
the  future.     In  the  execution  of  this  plan  he  stea- 
dily persisted ;    and  at  last  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  the  enemy,  which  had  given  him  so  much 
uneasiness,  effectually  restrained   from   any  power 
of  annoying  him  on  the  public  theatres.     An  act 
of  parliament  passed  in  the  year   1737?  which  for- 
bad the  representation  of  any  performance  not  pre- 
viously licenced  by  the  Lord    Chamberlain,  or  in 
any  place,  except  the  city  of  Westminster  and  the 
liberties  thereof,  or  where   the  royal  family  should 
at  any  time  reside.     It  also  took  from  the  crown 
the  power  of  licensing  any  more  theatres,  and  in- 
flicted heavy  penalties  on  those  who  should  here- 
after perform  in  defiance  of  the  regulations  in  the 
statute.     This  unpopular  act  did  not  pass  without 
opposition.     It  called  forth  the  eloquence  of  Lord 
Chesterfield  in  a  speech,  wherein  all  the  arguments 
in  favour  of  this  obnoxious  law  were  answered,  the 
dangers  which  might  ensue  from   it  were  pointed 
out,  and   the  little   necessity    for   such  hostilities 
VOL.  I.  k 


CXXxii  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


Lacey,  to  whom  the  conduct  of  the  theatre  wa^ 
relinqoished.  The  calamities  of  the  times  affected 
the  credit  of  many  persons  at  this  juncture;  and 
amongst  the  rest  of  the  new  managers,  who  found 
themselves  obliged  to  stop  payment.  Their  mis- 
fortunes occasioned  the  patent  again  to  become 
the  object  of  a  sale.  It  was  offered  to  several 
persons,  but  few  appeared  to  have  courage  enough 
to  venture  upon  it.  At  length  it  was  proposed  by 
Mr.  Lacey,  that  he  and  Mr.  Garrick  should  be- 
come joint-purchasers.  The  offer  was  accepted. 
A  renewal  of  the  patent  was  solicited  and  obtained. 
All  the  preliminaries  were  in  a  short  time  settled, 
and,  in  the  year  1747>  the  house  was  opened  with 
a  Prologue  written  by  Dr.  Johnson,  and  spoken 
by  Mr.  Garrick. 

From  this  period  may  be  dated  the  flourishing 
state  of  the  theatre.  The  new  partners  were  fur- 
nished with  abilities  to  make  their  purchase  advan- 
tageous to  themselves,  and  useful  to  the  public. 
Mr.  Garrick's  admirable  performances  insured  them 
great  audiences  ;  and  the  industry  and  attention  of 
Mr.  Lacey  were  employed  in  rendering  the  house 
convenient  to  the  frequenters  of  it.  They  both 
exerted  their  endeavours  to  acquire  the  favour  of 
the  town ;  and  the  preference  which  was  given  to 
them  over  their  rivals  at  the  other  theatre  suffi- 
ciently proved  the  superior  estimation  they  were 
held  in.     The  harmony  which    subsisted  between 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE-  CXXXlll 


them  contributed  to  the  success  of  their  under- 
taking, and  their  efforts  in  the  end  procured  them 
both  riches  and  respect. 

The  month  of  December,  1761,  was  marked 
with  the  death  of  Mr.  Rich,  who  had  been  ma- 
nager under  the  patents  granted  by  Charles  the 
Second  almost  fifty  years.  His  peculiar  excel- 
lence in  the  composition  of  those  performances 
which  demanded  shew  and  expence  enabled  him, 
with  an  indifferent  company  of  actors,  to  make  a 
stand  against  the  greatest  performers  of  his  time : 
he  was  unrivalled  in  the  representation  of  his  fa- 
vourite character  Harlequin,  and  possessed  with 
many  foibles  some  qualities  which  commanded  the 
esteem  of  his  friends  and  acquaintance.  On  his 
decease,  the  business  of  Covent-Garden  theatre 
was  conducted  by  his  son-in-law  Mr.  Beard. 

In  the  year  1/63,  Mr.  Garrick,  by  the  advice  of 
his  physicians,  went  abroad,  in  order  to  relax  from 
the  fatigues  of  his  profession,  imd  to  re-establish  his 
health,  which  had  been  much  broken  by  an  uninter- 
rupted exertion  of  his  abilities  on  the  stage.  He 
was  absent  two  seasons,  and  then  returned  to  the 
theatre,  where  he  remained  until  the  year  1/76. 

The  theatre  in  the  Hay-market  had  for  some 
years  been  occupied  in  the  summer  time  by  virtue 
of  licences  from  the  Lord  Chamberlain.  In  the 
month  of  July,  1766,  it  was  advanced  to  the  dig- 
nity of  a  theatre  royal ;    a  patent  being  then  made 


CXXXIV  SUPPLEiMENTTO 


out  to  Mr.  Foote,  authorizing  him  to  build  a  thea- 
tre in  the  city  and  liberties  of  Westminster,  and  to 
exhibit  dramatic  performances,  &c.  therein,  from 
the  14th  day  of  May  to  the  14th  of  September, 
during  his  life.  On  this  grant  being  passed,  the 
patentee  purchased  the  old  playhouse,  which  had 
been  built  in  1720,  and  immediately  pulled  it 
down.  It  was  rebuilt  in  the  course  of  the  next 
year,  and  opened  in  the  month  of  May,  1767'  ^^i'- 
Foote  very  successfully  managed  this  theatre  until 
the  season  before  his  death. 

From  the  decease  of  Mr.  Rich,  Covent-Garden 
theatre  had  been  intrusted  to  the  direction  of  his 
son-in-law  Mr.  Beard,  who  introduced  several 
musical  pieces  to  the  stage,  which  were  received 
with  applause,  and  brought  considerable  profits  to 
those  concerned  in  the  house.  The  taste  of  the 
public  inclined  very  much  to  this  species  of  per- 
formance for  several  seasons ;  but  about  the  year 
1766  the  audiences  beginning  to  lessen,  and  the 
acting  manager  finding  no  relief  for  a  deafness 
which  he  had  long  been  afliicted  with,  he  became 
desirous  of  retiring  from  the  bustle  of  a  theatre  to 
the  quiet  of  private  life.  In  the  summer  of  1767j 
a  negociation  was  set  on  foot  by  Messieurs  Harris 
and  Rutherford;  for  the  purchase  of  all  the  property 
in  the  play-house  which  belonged  to  the  then  pro- 
prietors ;  but  the  advantage  of  having  a  capital 
performer  as  one  of  the  sharers  being  suggested. 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  CXXXV 


Mr.  Powell  was  invited  to  join  with  them,  and  he 
recommended  Mr.  Colman  as  a  person  from  whom 
the  undertaking  would  receive  great  advantage. 
The  proposal  being  assented  to  by  the  several 
parties,  the  property  of  the  theatre  was  assigned  in 
August,  1767;  the  conduct  of  the  stage  was  in- 
trusted to  Mr.  Colman,  and  the  house  opened  on 
the  14th  of  September  with  the  Comedy  of  the 
Rehearsal ;  and  a  Prologue  written  by  Paul  White- 
head, and  spoken  by  Mr.  Powell. 

The  disputes  which  soon  afterwards  arose 
amongst  the  new  managers  are  unworthy  of  any 
notice,  on  account  of  the  virulence  and  acrimony 
with  which  each  party  seems  to  have  been  inflamed ; 
it  is  sufficient  to  observe,  that  after  they  had  con- 
tinued a  long  time,  and  had  received  a  judicial  de- 
termination, they  were  amicably  ended. 

Mr.  Rutherford  sold  his  share  to  Messieurs 
J^ake  and  Dagge.  Mr.  Powell  died  in  July, 
1769;  and  his  widow  afterwards  married  Dr. 
Fisher,  who  by  that  means  became  entitled  to 
some  part  of  her  late  husband's  interest  in  the 
theatre.  Mr.  Colman  managed  the  affairs  of  the 
stage  until  the  year  1774,  when  his  right  was  pur- 
-jhased  by  the  rest  of  his  partners,  to  whom  it  was 
immediately  assigned. 

In  1776,  an  event  took  place,  which  the  ad- 
mirers of  theatrical  entertainments  had  long  ex- 
pected with  concern,  and  now  viewed  with  regret. 


CXXXVl  SUPPLEMENT  TO 


Mr.  Garrick,  at  a  period  when  his  powers  had 
suffered  little  injury  from  time,  and  in  the  height 
of  his  fame  and  popularity,  determined  to  relin- 
quish all  connection  with  the  stage,  and  retire  to 
the  honourable  enjoyment  of  a  large  fortune,  ac- 
quired in  the  course  of  near  forty  years  spent  in 
the  service  of  the  public.  His  last  appearance 
was  in  the  character  of  Don  Felix  in  the  Play  of 
the  Wonder,  acted  on  the  10th  day  of  June,  for 
a  charitable  benefit.  He  was  honoured  with  a 
brilliant  and  crowded  audience,  and  was  dismissed 
with  the  loudest  applauses  ever  heard  in  a  theatre. 
The  obligations  which  the  public  are  under  to 
him  for  the  decency  and  propriety  of  our  present 
dramatic  performances,  will  ever  intitle  him  to  the 
grateful  respect  of  the  world,  independent  of  his 
extraordinary  merit  either  as  an  actor  or  as  an 
author. 

As  this  is  the  period  at  which  the  present  im- 
perfect account  of  the  English  theatre  is  intended 
to  be  closed,  some  apology  may  be  expected  for 
the  defects  of  it.  A  more  copious  and  particular 
detail  would  not  have  been  consistent  with  the 
plan  of  this  work  ;  and  the  materials  for  a  history 
executed  with  such  minuteness  as  the  subject  de- 
serves are  too  much  scattered,  and  too  difficult  to 
be  obtained,  to  be  readily  brought  together.  Many 
circumstances  and  much  information  might  be  pro- 
cured from  those  who  have  access  to  the  interior 


MR.  DODSLEY  S  PREFACE.  CXXXVU 


of  the  present  playhouses;  the  neglected  pamphlets 
of  former  times  would  afford  a  great  fund  of  intel- 
ligence ;  and  the  remembrance  of  many  individuals 
would  furnish  particulars  of  considerable  value  to 
any  person  who  had  leisure  and  abiUties  for  such 
an  undertaking.  The  History  of  the  Drama  seems  in- 
titled  to  more  regard  than  hath  been  bestowed  upon 
it.  To  excite  the  attention  of  those  who  are  best 
qualified  for  such  a  work,  hath  been  the  chief  end 
of  the  present  slight  view  of  the  English  theatres, 
which  can  only  be  entitled  to  pardon,  as  it  may 
probably  at  some  future  time  be  the  means  of  pro- 
ducing a  performance  with  fewer  imperfections  and 
more  worthy  of  public  notice. 

March  31,  3780. 


HISTORIA    HISTRIONICA: 

AN 

HISTORICAL  ACCOUNT 

OF 

THE    ENGLISH    STAGE; 


THE  ANCIENT  USE,  IMPROVEMENT,  AND  PERFECTION  OF 
DRAMATIC  REPRESENTATIONS  IN  THIS  NATION. 

IN 

A  DIALOGUE  OF  PLAYS  AND  PLAYERS. 


•  Olim  meminisse  juvabit. 


LONDON: 


PRINTED  BY  G.  GROOM,  FOR  WILLIAM   HAWES, 
AT  THE  ROSE  IN  LUDGATE-STREET. 


1699. 


This  tract  was  originally  printed  in  1699.  It  is  said 
to  have  been  the  production  of  Jannes  Wright  of  New 
Inn,  afterwards  of  the  Middle  Temple,  Barrister  at  Law. 
He  was  the  author  of  The  Antiquities  of  Rutlandshire j 
and  some  poems;  particularly,  (I.)  "  An  Essay  on  the 
"  present  Ptuins  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral."  To  which 
is  annexed,  "  The  Misfortunes  of  St.  Paul's  Cathe- 
"  dral,"  in  heroic  verse,  4to.  1668;  re-printed  with 
two  other  poems  under  the  title  of,  (2.)  "  Three  poems 
'*  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral ;  viz.  The  Ruins,  The  Re- 
"  buildin^5,  The  Choire*,  Fo,  1697."  and  (3.)  "  Phoe- 
''  nix  Paulina,  a  Poem  on  St.  Paul's  Cathedra),  4to. 
*'  1709  f."  He  was  alive  m  17 10,  being  m.entioned  by 
Mr.  Hearne  in  his  preface  to  Leland's  Itinerary,  in  this 
manner;  "  I  could  have  supply'd  more  Lacuna;,  and 
*'  in  all  likelyhood  haverender'd  this  performance  more 
"  perfect,  it  I  had  had  the  use  of  a  very  good  tran- 
*'  script  of  Mr.  Leiand's  Itinerary,  taken  about  the  time 
"  of  Queen  Elizabeth  (before  the  originals  took  wet,  as 
**  is  suppos'dj  and  was  formerly  in  possession  of  James 
"  Wright,  of  the  Middle  Temple,  Esq.  the  worthy 
^'  author  of  the  Antiquities  of  Ptutlandshire ;  but  this, 
"  with  a  multitude  of  other  valuable  curiosities,  was 
"  unhappily  burnt  in  the  fire  at  the  Middle  Temple,  in 
"  the  year  1698,  as  Mr.  Wright  has  been  pleased  to 
"  inform  me."  Anthony  Wood  says,  he  wrote  an  elegy 
on  the  death  of  Mr  John  Goad,"^  Master  of  Merchant 
Taylor's  School,  who  died  1689.  (See  Wood's  A  thenae, 
vol.  1.  p.  839.) 

•  British  TopogTaphy,  vol.  1.  p.  610. 
t  CaUiIogiie  of  pamptilets  ia  the  Harlei-^n  Library,  p.  146. 


THE  PREFACE.* 


Much  has  been  writ  of  lat^  /);*.■>  and  con  about 
the  sta2:e,  yet  the  subject  admits  of  more,  and  that 
which  has  not  been  hitherto  touched  upon  ;  not 
only  what  that  is.  but  what  it  was.  about  which 
some  people  have  made  such  a  bustle.  ^^  hat  it 
is  we  see,  and  I  think  it  has  been  sutHcieutly  dis- 
pUiy'd  in  Mr.  Collier's  book  ;  what  it  was  in  former 
as;cs  and  how  used  in  this  kingdom,  so  far  back 
as  one  may  collect  any  memorials,  is  the  subject  of 
the  following-  dialogue.  Old  plays  will  be  always 
read  by  the  curious,  if  it  were  only  to  discover  the 
manners  and  behaviour  of  several  ages  and  how 
they  altered.  For  plays  are  exactly  like  portraits, 
drawn  in  the  garb  and  fashion  of  the  time  when 
painted.  You  see  one  habit  in  the  time  of  Charles 
I.  another  quite  dit^erent  iVom  tlun,  both  for  men 
and  women,  in  Queen   Elizabeth's    time  ;    another 

•  This  preface  is  now  for  the  tirst  time  iiisortoi!,  Mr. 
Reed  having  omitted  it  probably  because  Ids  copy  Nras  not 
perfect.  It  is  reprinted  from  the  lirst  edition  in  I6c)tj, 
which  the  former  editor  had  not  been  able  to  procure.     C. 


cxlii 


under  Henry  the  Eighth  different  from  both,  and 
so  backward  all  various.  And  in  the  several  fashions 
of  behaviour  and  conversation  there  is  as  much 
mutabihty  as  in  that  of  clothes.  Religion  and  re- 
ligious matters  was  once  as  much  the  mode  in 
public  entertainments,  as  the  contrary  has  been  in 
some  times  since.  This  appears  in  the  different 
plays  of  several  ages:  and  to  evince  this  the  fol- 
lowing sheets  are  an  essay  or  specimen. 

Some  may  think  the  subject  of  this  discourse 
trivial,  and  the  persons  herein  mentioned  not  worth 
remembering.  But  besides  that  I  could  name  some 
things  contested  of  late  with  great  heat,  of  as  little 
or  less  consequence,  the  reader  may  know  that  the 
profession  of  players  is  not  so  totally  scandalous, 
nor  all  of  them  so  reprobate,  but  that  there  has  been 
found  under  that  name  a  canonized  saint  in  the  pri- 
mitive church ;  as  may  be  seen  in  the  Roman  Mar- 
tyrology  on  the  29th  March  :  his  name  Masctilas,  a 
master  of  interludes  (the  Latin  is  Archimimus,  and 
the  French  translation  un  Maitre  comedieri)  who 
under  the  persecution  of  the  Vandals  in  Africa,  by 
Geisericus  the  Avian  King,  having,  endured  many 
and  grievous  torments  and  reproaches  for  the  con- 
fession of  the  truth,  finished  the  course  of  this  glo- 
rious combat,  saith  the  said  Martyrology. 

It  appears  from  this  and  some  further  instances 
in  the  following  discourse,  that  there  have  been 


cxliii 


players  of  worthy  principles  as  to  religion,  loyalty 
and  other  virtues ;  and  if  the  major  part  of  them 
fall  under  a  different  character,  it  is  the  general 
unhappiness  of  mankind,  that  the  most  are  the 
worst. 


A  DIALOGUE,  &c. 


LovEwiT,  Tkueman. 

Lovewit.  Honest  old  Ceivalier!  well  met,  'faith  I'm 
glad  to  see  thee. 

Trueman.  Have  a  care  what  you  call  me  ;  old  is  a 
word  of  disgrace  among  the  ladies;  to  be  honest  is  to 
be  poor,  and  foolish,  (as  some  think  ;)  and  Cavalier  is 
a  word  as  much  out  of  fashion  as  any  of  'em. 

Lovewil.  The  more's  the  pity  :  but  what  said  the  for- 
tune-teller in  Ben  Jonson's  mask  of  Gypsies,  to  the 
then  Lord  Privy  Seal  ! 

Honest  and  old ! 
In  those  the  good  part  of  a  fortune  is  told. 

Trueman.  Ben  Jonson  !  how  dare  you  name  Ben 
Jonson  in  these  times ;  when  we  have  such  a  crowd  of 
poets  of  a  quite  different  genius ;  the  least  of  wfiich 
thinks  himself  as  well  able  to  correct  Ben  Jonson,  as 
he  could  a  country  school-mistress  that  taught  to 
spell  ? 

Lovewit.  We  have,  indeed,  poets  of  a  different  ge- 
nius ;  so  are  the  plays  :  but,  in  my  opinion,  ihey  are 
all  of  'em  (some  few  excepted)  as  much  inferior  to 
those  of  former  times,  as  the  actors  now  in  being  (gene- 
rally speaking)  are,  compared  to  Hart,  Mohun,  Burt, 
Lacy,  Clun,  and  Shatterel;  for  I  can  reach  no  farther 
backward. 

Trueman.  I  can  ;  and  dare  assure  you,  if  my  fancy 
and  memory  are  not  partial  (for  men  of  my  age 
are  apt  to  be  over  indulgent  to  the  thoughts  of  their 
youthful  days)  I  say  the  actors  that  I  have  seen  before 
the  wars,  Lowin,  Taylor,  Pollard,   and  some   others, 

VOL.  1.  1 


Cxlvi  A   DIALOGUE,  &c. 


were  almost  as  far  beyond  Hart  and  his  company,  as 
those  were  beyond  these  now  in  being. 

Lovewit.  I  am  willing  to  believe  it,  but  cannot  rea- 
dily ;  because  I  have  been  told,  that  those  whom  I 
mention'd,  were  bred  up  under  the  others  of  your  ac- 
quaintance, and  foUow'd  their  manner  of  action,  which 
is  now  lost :  so  far,  that  when  the  question  has  been 
ask'd,  Why  these  players  do  not  revive  the  Silent  Wo- 
man, and  some  other  of  Jonson's  plays  (once  of  highest 
esteem)  they  have  answered.  Truly,  because  there  are 
none  now  living  who  can  rightly  humour  those  parts ; 
for  all  who  related  to  the  Black-friers,  (where  they  were 
acted  in  perfection)  are  now  dead  and  almost  for- 
gotten. 

Trueman.  'Tis  very  true,  Hart  and  Clun  were  bred 
up  boys  at  the  Black-friers,  and  acted  women's  parts ; 
Hart  was  Robinson's  boy,  or  apprentice  ;  he  acted  the 
Duchess,  in  the  Tragedy  of  the  Cardinal,  which  was 
the  first  part  that  gave  him  reputation.  Cartwright  and 
Wintershal  belong'd  to  the  Private  House  in  Salisbury- 
court;  Burt  was  a  boy,  first  under  Shank  at  the  Black- 
friers,  then  under  Beeston  at  the  Cock-pit ;  and  Mohua 
and  Shatterel  were  in  the  same  condition  with  him,  at 
the  last  place.  There  Burt  used  to  play  the  principal 
women's  parts,  in  particular  Clariana,in  Love's  Cuelty: 
and  at  the  same  time  Mohun  acted  Bellamente,  which 
part  he  retained  after  the  restoration. 

Lovewit.  That  I  have  seen,  and  can  well  remember, 
I  wish  they  had  printed  in  the  last  age  (so  I  call  the 
times  before  the  rebellion)  the  actors*  names  over 
against  the  parts  they  acted,  as  they  have  done  since 
the  restoration  ;  and  thus  one  might  have  guess'd  at 
the  action  of  the  men,  by  the  parts  which  we  now  read 
in  the  old  plays. 

Trueman.  It  was  not  the  custom  and  usage  of  those 
days,  as  it  hath  been  since.  Yet  some  few  old  plays 
there  are  that  have  the  names  set  against  the  parts,  as 
The  Dutchess  of  Malfy;  the  Picture;  the  Roman 
Actor;  the  Deserving  Favourite;  the  Wild-Goose- 
Chase,  (at  the  Black-friers) ;  the  Wedding ;  the  Rene- 


A   DIALOGUE.  &c.  CxUH 


gado:  the  Fair  Maid  of  the  West;  Hannibal  and  Scipio; 
King  John  and  Matilda,  (at  the  Cock-pit) ;  and  Hol- 
land's Leaguer,  (at  Salisbury  Court). 

Lovewit.  These  are  but  few  indeed :  but  pray,  sir, 
what  master-parts  can  you  remember  the  old  Black- 
frier's  men  to  act  in  Jonson,  Shakspeare,  and  Fletcher's 
plays  ? 

Trueman.  What  I  can  at  present  recollect  I'll  tell 
you ;  Shakspeare,  (who,  as  I  have  heard,  was  a  much 
better  poet  than  player)  Burbage,  Hemmings,  and  others 
of  the  older  sort,  were  dead  before  I  knew  the  town  : 
but  in  my  time,  before  the  wars,  Lowin  used  to  act,  with 
mighty  applause,  FalstafFe,  Morose,  Vo'.pone,  and 
Mammon,  in  the  Alohymist;  Melantius,  in  the  Maid's 
Tragedy;  and  at  the  same  time  Amyntor  was  play'd 
by  Stephen  Hammerton,  (who  was  at  hrst  a  most  noted 
and  beautiful  woman  actor,  but  afterwards  he  acted, 
with  equal  grace  and  applause,  a  young  lover's  part)  ; 
Taylor  acted  Hamlet  incomparably  well,  Jago,  Truewit 
in  the  Silent  Woman,  and  Face  in  the  Akhymist; 
Swanston  us'd  to  play  Othello;  Pollard  and  Roljinson 
were  comedians;  so  was  Shank,  who  us'd  to  act  Sir 
Roger,  in  the  Scornful  Lady:  these  were  of  the  Black- 
friers.  Those  of  principal  note  at  the  Cock-pit,  were, 
Perkins,  Michael  Bowyer,  Sumner,  William  Allen,  and 
Bird,  eminent  actors,  and  Robins,  a  comedian.  Of  the 
other  companies  I  took  little  notice. 

Lovewit.  Were  there  so  many  companies  ? 

Trueman.  Before  the  wars  there  were  in  being  all 
these  play-houses  at  the  same  time.  The  Black-friers, 
and  Globe  on  the  Bank-side,  a  winter  and  summer 
house,  belonging  to  the  same  company,  called  the 
King's  Servants ;  the  Cock-pit  or  Phoenix,  in  Drury- 
lane,  called  the  Queen's  Servants;  the  Private  House 
in  Sahsbury-court,  called  the  Prince's  Servants ;  the 
Fortune  near  Whitecross  Street  • ;    and  the  Red  Bull, 

'  The  Tortnne  near  Whitecross  Street. '\  This  is  afterwards  said  to 
be  a  large  round  brick  building.  Mr.  Steevens  supposes,  from  the 
extent  of  it,  that  all  the  actors  resided  within  its  precincts.  It  was 
pulled  down  about  the  time  of  the  restoration,  soon  after  the  ap- 


CXlviii  A   DIALOGDE,  &C. 


at  the  upper  end  of  St.  John's  Street:  the  two  last 
were  mostly  frequented  by  citizens,  and  the  meaner  sort 
of  people.  All  these  companies  got  money,  and  liv'd 
in  reputation,  especially  those  of  the  Black-friers,  who 
were  men  of  grave  and  sober  behaviour. 

Loveicit.  Which  I  admire  at;  that  the  town,  much 
less  than  at  present,  could  then  maintain  five  compa- 
nies, and  yet  now  two  can  hardly  subsist. 

Trueman.  Do  not  wonder,  but  consider,  that  tho'the 
town  was  then,  perhaps,  not  much  more  than  half  so 
populous  as  now,  yet  then  the  prices  were  small  (there 
being  no  scenes)  and  better  order  kept  among  the  com- 
pany that  came;  v/hich  made  very  good  people  think 
a  play  an  innocent  diversion  for  an  idle  hour  or  two, 
the  plays  themselves  being  then,  for  the  most  part, 
more  instructive  and  moral.  Whereas,  of  late,  the  play- 
houses are  so  extremely  pestered  with  vizard-masks  and 
their  trade,  (occasioning  continual  quarrels  and  abuses) 
that  many  of  the  more  civiliz'd  part  of  the  town  are  un- 
easy in  the  company,  and  shun  the  Theatre  as  they 
would  a  house  of  scandal.  It  is  an  argument  of  the 
worth  of  the  plays  and  actors  of  the  last  age,  and  easily 
inferred,  that  they  were  much  beyond  ours  in  this,  to 
consider  that  they  could  support  themselves  merely 
from  their  own  merit,  the  weight  of  the  matter,  and 
goodness  of  the  action,  without  scenes  and  machines  ; 
whereas  the  present  plays  with  all  that  shew  can  hardly 
draw  an  audience,  unless  there  be  the  additional  invi- 

pearaiice  of  the  following  advertisement,  in  the  Mercurius  Politicus 
Tuesday,  Feb.  14,  to  Tuesday,  Feb.  21.  1661.  "  The  Fortune 
"  Playhouse,  situate  between  Whitecross  Street  and  Golding 
"  Square,  in  the  parish  of  St.  Giles,  Cripplegate,  with  the  ground 
"  thereunto  belonging,  is  to  be  let  to  be  built  upon  ;  where  23  te- 
"  nements  may  be  erected,  with  gardens  ;  and  a  street  may  be  cut 
"  through  for  the  better  accommodation  of  the  buildings."  (See 
edition  of  Shakspeare,  1778,  vol.  1.  p.  267.)  From  the  following 
passage  of  The  Evglish  Traveller,  by  Heywood,  1633,  Sign.  I  3.  we 
find  there  was  a  picture  or  Statue  of  Fortune  before  the  building. 

" I'le  rather  stand  heere 

"  Like  a  Statue  in  the  Forefront  of  your  house 
"  For  ever  ;  Like  the  picture  of  Dame  Fortune 
"  Before  the  Fortune  Playhouse." 


A    DIALOCrUE,  &c.  CXli 


tation  of  a  Signior  Fideli,  a  Monsieur  TAbbe,  or  some 
such  foreign  regale  express'd  in  the  bottom  of  the  bill. 
Lovewit.  To  wave  this  digression,  I  have  read  of  one 
Edward  AUeyn,  a  man,  so  famed  for  excellent  action, 
that  among  Ben  Jonson's  epigrams,  I  find  one  directed 
to  him,  full  of  encomium,  and  concluding  thus  : 

Wear  this  renown,  'tis  just  that  luho  did  give 
So  many  poets  life,  by  one  should  live. 

Was  he  one  of  the  Black-friers  ? 

Trueman.  Never,  as  1  have  heard  ;  (for  he  was  dead 
before  my  time).  He  was  master  of  a  company  of  his 
own,  for  whom  he  built  the  Fortune  play-house  from 
the  ground,  a  large,  round,  brick  building.  This  is  he 
that  grew  so  rich,  that  he  purchased  a  great  estate  in 
Surry  and  elsewhere;  and  having  no  issue,  he  built  and 
largely  endowed  Dulwich  college,  in  the  year  1619^,  for 
a  master,  a  warden,  four  fellows,  twelve  aged  poor 
people,  and  twelve  poor  boys,  &c.     A  noble  charity. 

Lovewit.  What  kind  of  play-houses  had  they  before 
the  wars? 

Trueman.  The  Black-friers,  Cock-pit,  and  Salis- 
bury-court, were  called  private  houses,  and  were  very 
small  to  what  we  see  now.  The  Cock-pit  was  stand- 
ing since  the  restoration,  and  Rhodes's  com.pany  acted 
there  for  some  time. 

Lovewit.  I  have  seen  that. 

Trueman.  'i  hen  you  have  seen  the  other  two,  in  ef- 
fect; for  they  were  all  three  built  almost  exactly  alike, 
for  form  and  bigness.  Here  they  had  pits  for  the  gentry, 
and  acted  by  candle-light.  The  Globe,  Fortune,  and 
Bull,  were  large  houses,  and  lay  partly  open  to  the  wea- 
ther, and  there  they  always  acted  by  day-light. 

Lovewit.  But,  pr'ythee,  Trueman,  what  became  of 
these  players  when  the  stage  was  put  down,  and  the 
rebellion  rais'd  ? 

Trueman.  Most,  of 'em,  except  Lowin,  Taylor  and 
Pollard  (who  were  superannuated)  went  into  the  king's 

2  The  letters  patent  under  the  great  seal,  bear  date  the  21st  June, 
1619. 


Cl  A   DIALOGUE,  &c. 


army,  and,  like  good  men  and  true,  serv'd  their  old 
master,  tho'  in  a  different,  yet  more  honourable  capa- 
city. Robinson  was  kill'd  at  the  taking  of  a  place,  (I 
think  Basing-house)  by  Harrison,  he  that  was  after 
hang*d  at  Charing-cross,  who  refused  him  quarter,  and 
shot  him  in  the  head  when  he  had  laid  down  his  arms; 
abusing  scripture  at  the  same  time,  in  saying,  Cursed  is 
he  that  doth  the  work  of  the  Lord  negligently.  Mohun 
was  a  captain  (and  after  the  wars  were  ended  here, 
served  in  Flanders,  where  he  received  pay  as  a  major.) 
Hart  was  a  lieutenant  of  horse  under  sir  Thomas  Dalli- 
son,  in  prince  Rupert's  regiment;  Burt  was  cornet  in  the 
same  troop,  and  Shatterel  quarter-master;  Allen  of 
the  Cock-pit  was  a  major,  and  quarter-master-general 
at  Oxford.  1  have  not  heard  of  one  of  these  players  of 
any  note  that  sided  with  the  other  party,  but  only 
Svvanston,  and  he  profess'd  himself  a  presbyterian,  took 
up  the  trade  of  a  jeweller,  and  liv'd  in  Aldermanbury, 
within  the  territory  of  father  Calamy  ;  the  rest  either 
lost,  or  expos'd  their  lives  for  their  king.  When  the 
wars  were  over,  and  the  royalists  totally  subdu'd,  most 
of  'em  who  were  left  alive  gather'd  to  London,  and  for 
a  subsistence  endeavour'd  to  revive  their  old  trade 
privately.  They  made  up  one  company  out  of  all  the 
scatter'd  members  of  several ;  and  in  the  winter  before 
the  king's  murder,  1648,  they  ventured  to  act  some 
plays,  with  as  much  caution  and  privacy  as  could  be, 
at  the  Cock-pit.  They  continued  undisturbed  for  three 
or  four  days;  but  at  last,  as  they  were  presenting  the 
tragedy  of  the  Bloody  Brother  (in  which  Lowin  acted 
Aubrey;  Taylor,  Rollo ;  Pollard,  the  Cook:  Burt, 
Latorch  ;  and  I  think  Hart,  Otto)  a  party  of  foot  sol- 
diers beset  the  house,  surprized  'em  about  the  middle 
of  the  play',  and  carried  'em  away  in  their  habits,  not 

3  This  is  confirmed  by  Kirkman  ;  who,  in  his  Preface  to  The 
Wits,  or  Sport  tipmi  Sport,  1672,  says,  the  small  compositions  of 
which  his  work  was  made  up,  being  scenes  and  parts  of  plays, 
were  at  this  period  "  liked  and  approved  by  all,  and  they  were  the 
'•  fittest  for  the  actors  to  represent,  there  being  little  cost  in  cloaths, 
"  which  often  were  in  great  danger  to  be  seized  by  the  then  sol- 


A   DIALOGUE,  &c.  clJ 


admitting  them  to  shift,  to  Hatton-house,  then  a  prison, 
where,  having  detained  them  some  time,  they  plundered 
them  of  their  clothes,  and  let  'em  loose  again.  After- 
wards, in  Oliver's  time,  they  used  to  act  privately,  three 
or  four  miles  or  more  out  of  town,  now  here,  now  there, 
sometimes  in  noblemen's  houses,  in  particular,  Holland- 
house  at  Kensington,  where  the  nobility  and  gentry 
who  met  (but  in  no  great  numbers)  used  to  make  a  sum 
for  them,  each  giving  a  broad  piece,  or  the  like.  And 
Alexander  Goffe,  the  woman  actor  at  Black-friers  (who 
had  made  himself  known  to  persons  of  quality)  used  to 
be  the  jackall,  and  give  notice  of  time  and  place.  At 
Christmas  and  Bartholomew-fair,  they  used  to  bribe  the 
officer  who  commanded  the  guard  at  Whitehall,  and 
were  thereupon  connived  at  to  act  for  a  few  days,  at  the 
Red  Bull'*;  but  were  sometimes,  notwithstanding,  dis- 
turb'd  by  soldiers.     Some  pick'd  up  a  little  money  by 

"  diers  ;  who,  as  the  poet  sayes,  Enter  the  Red  Coat,  Exit  Hat  and 
"  Cloak,  was  very  true,  not  only  in  the  audience  but  the  actors  too, 
"  who  were  commonly  not  only  stripp'd,  but  many  times  impri- 
"  soned  till  they  paid  such  ransom  as  the  souldiers  would  impose 
"  upon  them  ;  so  that  it  was  hazardous  to  act  any  thing  that  re- 
"  quired  any  good  cloaths  :  instead  of  which,  painted  cloath  many 
"  times  served  the  turn  to  represent  rich  habits." 

■*  "  When  the  publique  Theatres  were  shut  up,  and  the  actors 
"  forbidden  to  present  us  with  any  of  their  tragedies,  because  we 
"  had  enough  of  that  in  earnest ;  and  comedies,  because  the  vices 
"  of  the  age  were  too  lively  and  smartly  represented  ;  then  all  that 
"  we  could  divert  ourselves  with,  were  these  humours  and  pieces 
"  of  plays,  which,  passing  under  the  name  of  a  merry  conceited 
"  fellow,  called  Bottom  the  Weaver,  Simpleton  the  Smith  ;  John 
"  Swabber,  or  some  such  title,  were  only  allowed  us,  and  that  but 
"  by  stealth  too,  and  under  pretence  of  rope-dancing,  or  the  like  ; 
"  and  these  being  all  that  was  permitted  us,  great  was  the  con- 
"  fluence  of  the  auditors  ;  and  these  small  things  were  as  profitable 
"  and  as  great  get-pennies  to  the  actors  as  any  of  our  late  famed 
"  plays.  I  have  seen  the  Red  Bull  Plaiihonse,  which  was  a  large  one, 
"  so  full,  that  as  many  went  back  for  want  of  room  as  had  entered  ; 
"  and  as  meanly  as  you  may  now  think  of  these  drols,  they  were 
"  then  acted  by  the  best  comedians  then  and  now  in  being  ;  and  I 
"  may  say  by  some  that  then  exceeded  all  now  living,  by  name, 
"  the  incomparable  Robert  Cox,  who  was  not  only  the  principal 
"  actor,  but  also  the  contriver  and  author  of  most  of  these  farces." 
Kirkman's  Preface  to  The  Wits,  or  Sport  upon  Sport,  1672. 


Clii  A   DIALOGUE,  &C. 


publishing  the  copies  of  plays  never  before  printed,  bnt 
kept  up  in  manuscript.  For  instance,  in  the  year  1652, 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher'sWild-Goose-Chace  was  printed 
in  folio,  for  the  public  use  of  all  the  ingenious,  as  the 
title-page  says,  and  private  benefit  of  John  Lowin  and 
Joseph  Taylor,  servants  to  his  late  majesty ;  and  by 
them  dedicated  to  the  honoured  few  lovers  of  dramatic 
poesy :  wherein  they  modestly  intimate  their  wants, 
and  that  with  sufficient  cause  ;  for  whatever  they  were 
before  the  wars,  they  were  after  reduced  to  a  necessitous 
condition.  Lowin,  in  his  latter  days,  kept  an  inn,  the 
Three  Pigeons,  at  Brentford,  where  he  died  very  old, 
for  he  was  an  actor  of  eminent  note  in  the  reign  of  King 
James  I.  and  his  poverty  was  as  great  as  his  age. 
Taylor  died  at  Richmond,  and  was  there  buried.  Pol- 
lard, who  lived  single,  and  had  a  competent  estate,  re- 
tired to  some  relations  he  had  in  the  country, and  there 
ended  his  life.  Perkins  and  Sumner  of  the  Cock-pit, 
kept  house  together  at  Clerkenwell,  and  were  there 
buried.  These  all  died  some  years  before  the  restora- 
tion ;  what  follov/ed  after,  I  need  not  tell  you ;  you  can 
easily  remember. 

Lovewit.  Yes ;  presently  after  the  restoration,  the 
king's  players  acted  publicly  at  the  Red  Bull  for  some 
time,  and  then  removed  to  a  new-built  playhouse  in 
Vere-street,  by  Clare-market.  There  they  continued 
for  a  year  or  two,  and  then  removed  to  the  Theatre 
Royal  in  Drury-lane,  where  they  first  made  use  of 
scenes,  which  had  been  a  little  before  introduced  upon 
the  public  stage  by  Sir  William  Davenant,  at  the 
duke's  Old  Theatre  in  Lincoln's-inn-fields,  but  after- 
wards very  much  improved,  with  the  addition  of  curious 
machines,  by  Mr.  Betterton,  at  the  New  Theatre  in 
Dorset-garden,  to  the  great  expence  and  continual 
charge  of  the  players.  This  much  impaired  their  profit 
o'er  what  it  was  before;  for  I  have  been  inform'd  by 
one  of  'em,  that  for  several  years  next  after  the  restora- 
tion, every  whole  sharer  in  Mr.  Hart's  company,  got 
1000/.  per  ann.  About  the  same  time  that  scenes  first 
entered  upon  the  stage  at  London,  women  were  taught 


A   DIALOGUE,  &c.  cliii 


to  act  their  own  parts;  since  when,  we  have  seen  at 
both  houses  several  actresses,  justly  famed,  as  well  for 
beauty,  as  perfect  good  action.  And  some  plays,  in 
particular  the  Parson's  Wedding,  have  been  presented 
all  by  women,  as  formerly  all  by  men.  Thus  it  conti- 
nued for  about  20  years,  when  Mr.  Hart,  and  some  of 
the  old  men,  began  to  grow  weary,  and  were  minded 
to  leave  off;  then  the  two  companies  thought  fit  to 
unite;  but  of  late  you  see,  they  have  thought  it  no  less 
fit  to  divide  again,  though  both  companies  keep  the 
same  name  of  his  majesty's  servants.  All  this  while 
the  playhouse  musick  improved  yearly,  and  is  now 
arrived  to  2;reater  perfection  than  ever  I  knew  it.  Yet 
for  all  these  advantages,  the  reputation  of  the  stage, 
and  people's  affection  to  it,  are  much  decayed.  Some 
were  lately  severe  against  it,  and  would  hardly  allow 
stage-plays  fit  to  be  longer  permitted.  Have  you  seen 
Mr.  Collier's  book? 

Trueman.  Yes,  and  his  opposers*. 

Loveicit.  And  what  think  you? 

Trueman.  In  my  mind,  Mr.  Collier's  reflections  are 
pertinent,  and  true  in  the  main  ;  the  book  ingeniously 
wrote,  and  well  intended  ;  but  he  has  overshot  himself 
in  some  places,  and  his  respondents  perhaps  in  more. 
My  affection  inclines  me  not  to  engage  on  either 
side,  but  rather  mediate.  If  there  be  abuses  relating 
to  the  stage,  which  I  think  is  too  apparent,  let  the 
abuse  be  reformed,  and  not  the  use,  for  that  reason 
only,  abolished.  'Twas  an  old  saying,  when  I  was  a 
boy, 

Ahsit  ahusus,  non  desit  totaliter  usus. 

I  shall  not  run  through  Mr.  Collier's  book ;  I  will  only 
touch  a  little  on  two  or  three  general  notions,  in  which, 
I  think,  he  may  be  mistaken.  What  he  urges  out  of 
the  primitive  councils  and  fathers  of  the  church,  seems 
to  me  to  be  directed  against  the  heathen  plays,  which 
were  a  sort  of  religious  worship  with  them,  to  the  honour 
of  Ceres,  Flora,  or  some  of  their  false  deities.  They 
had  always  a  little  altar  on   their  stages,  as  appears 


Cliv  A   DIALOGUE,  &c. 


plain  enough  from  some  places  in  Plautus.  And  Mr. 
Collier  himself,  p.  235,  tells  us  out  of  Livy,  that  plays 
were  brought  in  upon  the  score  of  religion,  to  pacify 
the  gods.  No  wonder  then,  they  forbid  Christians  to 
be  present  at  them,  for  it  was  almost  the  same  as  to  be 
present  at  their  sacrifices.  We  must  also  observe;  that 
this  was  in  the  infancy  of  Christianity,  when  the  church 
was  under  severe,  and  almost  continual  persecutions, 
and  when  all  its  true  members  were  of  most  strict  and 
exemplary  lives,  not  knowing  when  they  should  be 
called  to  the  stake,  or  thrown  to  wild  beasts.  They 
communicated  daily,  and  expected  death  hourly;  as 
their  thoughts  were  intent  upon  the  next  world,  they 
abstain'd  almost  wholly  from  all  diversions  and  plea- 
sures (though  lawful  and  innocent)  in  this.  After- 
wards, Vv'hen  persecution  ceased,  and  the  church  flon- 
rish'd,  christians  being  then  freed  from  their  former 
terrors,  allow'd  themselves,  at  proper  times,  the  lawful 
recreations  of  conversation,  and  among  other,  no  doubt, 
this  of  shews  and  representations.  After  this  time,  the 
censures  of  the  church  indeed  might  be  continued,  or 
revived  upon  occasion,  against  plays  and  players;  tho', 
in  my  opinion,  it  cannot  be  understood  generally,  but 
only  against  such  players  who  were  of  vicious  and  licen- 
tious lives,  and  represented  profane  subjects,  incon- 
sistent with  the  morals  and  probity  of  manners  requisite 
to  christians ;  and  frequented  chiefly  by  such  loose  and 
debauch'd  people,  as  were  much  more  apt  to  corrupt 
than  divert  those  who  associated  with  them.  I  say,  I 
cannot  think  the  canons  and  censures  of  the  fathers 
can  be  applied  to  all  players,  ^wa^ewMS  players;  for  if 
so,  how  could  plays  be  continued  among  the  christians, 
as  they  were,  of  divine  subjects,  and  scriptural  stories? 
A  late  French  author,  speaking  of  the  Hotel  de  Bour- 
gogne,  a  play-house  in  Paris,  says,  that  the  ancient 
dukes  of  that  name  gave  it  to  the  brotherhood  of  the 
Passion,  established  in  the  church  of  Trinity-hospital, 
in  the  Rue  S.  Denis,  on  condition  that  they  should 
represent  here  interludes  of  devotion ;  and  adds,  that 
there  have  been  public  shews  in  this  place  six  hundred 


A    DIALOGUE,  &c.  ch 


years  ago.  The  Spanish  and  Portuguese  continue  still 
to  have,  for  the  most  part,  such  ecclesiastical  stories  for 
the  subject  of  their  plays:  and,  if  we  may  believe  Gage, 
they  are  acted  in  their  churches  in  Mexico,  and  the 
Spanish  West-Indies. 

Lovewit,  That's  a  great  way  off,  Trueman;  I  had 
rather  you  would  come  nearer  home,  and  confine  your 
discourse  to  Old  England. 

Trueman.  So  I  intend.  The  same  has  been  done 
here  in  England ;  for  otherwise  how  comes  it  to  be  pro- 
hibited in  the  88th  canon,  among  those  p<iss'd  in  con- 
vocation, 1603?  Certain  it  is,  that  our  ancient  plays 
were  of  religious  su!)jects,  and  had  for  their  actors,  if  not 
priests,  yet  men  relating  to  the  church. 

Lovewit.  How  does  that  appear? 

Trueman.  Nothing  clearer.  Stow,  in  his  survey  of 
London,  has  one  chapter  of  the  sports  and  pastimes  of 
old  time  used  in  this  city ;  and  there  he  tells  us,  that  in 
the  year  1391,  which  was  15  Richard  IT.  a  stage-play 
was  play'd  by  the  parish-clerks  of  London,  at  the 
Skinner's-well  beside  Srfiithfield,  which  play  continued 
three  days  together,  the  king,  queen,  and  nobles  of  the 
realm  being  present.  And  another  was  play'd  in  the 
year  1409,  1 1  Henry  IV.  which  lasted  eight  days,  and 
was  of  matter  from  the  creation  of  the  world ;  whereat 
were  present  most  part  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  of 
England.  Sir  William  Dugdale,  in  his  antiquities  of 
Warwickshire,  p.  116,  speaking  of  the  Gray-friars,  or 
Franciscans,  at  Coventry,  says.  Before  the  suppression 
of  the  monasteries,  this  city  was  very  famous  for  the 
pageants  that  were  play'd  therein  upon  Corpus-christi 
day ;  which  pageants  being  acted  with  mighty  state  and 
reverence  by  tlie  friers  of  this  house,  had  theatres  for 
the  several  scenes  very  large  and  high,  placed  upon 
wheels,  and  drawn  to  all  the  eminent  parts  of  the  city, 
for  the  better  advantage  of  the  spectators ;  and  con- 
tained the  story  of  the  New  Testament,  composed  in  old 
English  rhime.  An  ancient  manuscript  of  the  same  is 
now  to  be  seen  in  the  Cottonian  library,  Sub  Effig.  Vesp. 
D.  8.     Since   the    reformation,    in    queen  Elizabeth's 


Clvi  A    DIALOGUE,  &C. 


time,  plays  were  frequently  acted  by  quiristers  and 
singing-boys ;  and  several  of  our  old  comedies  have 
printed  in  the  title-page,  "  acted  by  the  children  of 
Paul's,"  (not  the  school,  but  the  church)  others,  '*  by 
the  children  of  her  majesty's  chapel ;"  in  particular, 
Cinthia's  Revels,  and  the  Poetaster,  were  play'd  by 
them ;  who  were  at  that  time  famous  for  good  action. 
Among  Ben  Jonson's  epigrams  you  may  find  an  epitaph 
on  S.  P.  (Sal.  Pavy)  one  of  the  children  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  chapel:  part  of  which  runs  thus, 

Years  he  counted  scarce  thirteen, 

When  fates  turnd  cruel, 
Yet  three  Jill' d  zodiacks  he  hod  been 

The  stage's  jewel ; 
And  did  act  {what  now  we  moan) 

Old  man  so  duly, 
As,  sooth,  the  Parcsfc  thought  him  ojie. 

He  play'd  so  truly. 

Some  of  these  chapel  boys,  when  they  grew  men,  be- 
came actors  at  the  Black-friers;  such  were  Nathan. 
Field  ^  and  John  Underwood.     Now  I  can  hardly  ima- 

^  Nathaniel  I'ield,  on  the  authority  of  Roberts  the  player,  (See 
his  answer  to  Mr.  Pope's  preface  to  Shakspeare)  has  been  consi- 
dered as  the  author  of  two  plays  ;  A  Woman  is  a  Weathercocke,  1612, 
?iXidi  Amends  for  Ladies,  1618.  He  is  also  supposed  to  be  the  same 
person  who  assisted  Massinger  in  The  Fatal  Dowry.  I  suspect  that 
Roberts  was  mistaken  in  these  assertions,  as  I  do  not  find  any  con- 
temporary writer  speak  of  Field  as  an  author  ;  nor  is  it  mentioned 
by  Langbaiue,  who  would  have  noticed  it,  had  he  known  the  fact. 
It  seems  more  probable,  that  the  writer  of  these  plays  was  Natha- 
niel Field,  M.A.  Fellow  of  New  College,  Oxford,  who  wrote  some 
Latin  verses,  printed  in  "  Oxoniensis  Academise,  Parentalia,  1625," 
and  who,  being  of  the  same  university  with  Massinger,  might  j^oiu 
with  him  while  there,  in  the  composition  of  the  play  ascribed  to 
them.  Nathaniel  Field  above  mentioned,  was  celebrated  in  the 
part  of  Bmss3/ Damtois,  first  printed  in  1607.  On  the  republication 
of  that  play,  in  1641,  he  is  thus  spoken  of  in  the  Prologue  : 

"  ■ Field  is  gone, 

"  "Whose  action  first  did  give  it  name,  and  one 

"  Who  came  the  neerest  to  him,  is  denide 

"  By  his  gray  beard  to  shew  the  height  and  pride 


A  DIALOGUE,  &C.  clvU 

gine  that  such  plays  and  players  as  these,  are  included 
in  the  severe  censure  of  the  councils  and  fathers ;  but 
such  only  who  are  truly  within  the  character  given  by 
Didacus  de  Tapia,  cited  by  Mr.  Collier,  p.  276,  viz. 
The  injamous  play-house ;  a  place  of  contradiction  to  the 
strictness  and  sobriety  of  religion  ;  a  place  hated  by  God, 
and  haunted  by  the  devil.  And  for  such  T  have  as  great 
an  abhorrence  as  any  man. 

Lovewit.  Can  you  guess  of  what  antiquity  the  repre- 
senting of  religious  matters  on  the  stage  hath  been  in 
Eno;land? 

Trueman.  How  long  before  the  conquest  I  know  not, 
but  that  it  was  used  in  London  not  long  after,  appears 
by  Fitz-stevens,  an  author  who  wrote  in  the  reign  of 
King  Henry  the  Second".  His  words  are,  Londonia 
j>ro  spectaculis  theatralibus,  pro  ludis  scenicis,  ludos  habet 
sanctiores,  representationes  miraculorum,  qucB  sancti 
confessores  operati  sunt,  seu  reprcesentationes  passionum 
quibus  claruit  constantiamarlyrum.  Of  this,  the  manu- 
script which  I  lately  mentioned,  in  the  Cottonian  library, 
is  a  notable  instance.  Sir  William  Dugdale  cites  this 
manuscript,  by  the  title  of  Ludus  Coven  trice ;  but  in  the 
printed  catalogue  of  that  library,  p.  113,  it  is  named 
thus,  A  collection  of  plays  in  old  English  metre  ;  h.  e. 
Dtamata  sacra,  in  quibus  exhibentur  historice  Veteris  et 
N.  Testamenti,  introductis  quasi  in  scenam  personis  illic 
memoratis,  quas  secum  invicem  colloquentes  pro  ingenio 
fngit  poeta.  Videntur  olim  coram  populo,  sive  ad  in- 
struendum,  sive  ad  placendam,  a  fratribus  mendicantibus 
reprasentata.  It  appears  by  the  latter  end  of  the  pro- 
logue, that  these  plays  or  interludes  were  not  only 
play'd  at  Coventry,  but  in  other  towns  and  places  upon 

"  Of  D'Ambois  youth  and  braverie  ;  yet  to  bold 
"  Our  title  still  a  foot,  and  not  grow  cold 
"  By  giving  it  o're,  a  tbird  man  witb  bis  best 
"  Of  care  and  paines  defends  our  interest; 
♦*  As  Ricbard  he  was  lik'd,  nor  doe  wee  feare, 
"  In  personating  Dambois,  bee'le  appeare 
"  To  faint,  or  goe  lesse,  so  your  free  consent 
"  As  heretofore  give  bim  encouragement."  :     * 

«  P.  7'^  4to.     Edition  1772. 


Clviii  A  DIALOGUE,  &c. 


occasion.  And  possibly  this  may  be  the  same  play 
which  Stow  tells  us  was  play'd  in  the  reign  of  King 
Henry  IV.  which  lasted  for  eight  days.  The  book  seems 
by  the  character  and  language  to  be  at  least  300  years 
old.  It  begins  with  a  general  prologue,  giving  the  ar- 
guments of  40  pageants  or  gesticulations  (which  were 
as  so  many  several  acts  or  scenes)  representing  all  the 
histories  of  both  testaments,  from  the  creation  to  the 
chusing  of  St.  Matthias  to  be  an  apostle.  The  stories 
of  the  New  Testament  are  more  largely  express'd,  viz. 
the  annunciation,  nativity,  visitation;  but  more  espe- 
cially all  matters  relating  to  the  passion,  very  particu- 
larly, the  resurrection,  ascension,  the  choice  of  St. 
Matthias.  Atter  which  is  also  representtd  the  assump- 
tion, and  last  judgment-  All  these  things  were  treated 
of  in  a  very  homely  stile,  as  we  now  think,  infinitely 
below  the  dignity  of  the  subject:  but  it  seems  the 
gout  of  that  age  was  not  so  nice  and  delicate  in  these 
matters;  the  plain  and  incurious  judgment  of  our  an- 
cestors, being  prepared  with  favour,  and  taking  every 
thing  by  the  right  and  easiest  handle :  For  example,  in 
the  scene  relating  to  the  visitation  : 

Maria.    But   husband   of  oo    thyng  pray   you   most 
mekeley^ 
I  have  knowing  that  our  cosyn  Elizabeth  with  childe  is. 
That  it  please  yow  to  go  to  her  hastyly^ 
If  ought  we  myth  comfort  Iter,  it  wer  to  me  blys. 

Joseph.  A  Gods  sake,  is  she  with  child,  sche  ? 
Than  will  her  husband  Zachary  be  mery. 
In  Montana  they  dwelle,fer  hence,  so  moty  the, 
In  the  city  of  Juda,  I  know  it  verily  ; 
It  is  hence,  I  trowe,  myles  tioo  a  fifty. 
We  ar  like  to  he  wery  or  we  come  at  the  same. 
I  wole  with  a  good  will,  blessyd  wyff  Mary  ; 
Now  go  we  forth  then  in  Goddys  name,  8^c. 

A  little  before  the  Resurrection. 

Nunc  dormient  milites,  et  veniet  anima  Christi  de  inferno, 

cum  Adam  et  Eva.,  Abraham,  John  Baptist,  et  aliis. 


A  DIALOGUE,  &c.  cllX 


Anima  Christi.  Come  forth  Adam,  and  Eve  with  the. 
And  all  7ny  fryndes  that  herein  he. 
In  paradys  come  forth  with  me 

In  blysse  for  to  dwelle. 
The  fende  of  hell  that  is  yowrfoo 
He  shall  be  wrappyd  and  woundyn  in  woo: 
Fro  wo  to  welth  now  shall  ye  go, 

With  myrih  ever  mor  to  melle, 

Adam.  /  thank  the  Lord  of  thy  grete  grace 
That  now  is  forgiven  my  gret  trespace, 
Now  shall  we  dwellyn  in  blyssful  place,  S^c. 

The  last  scene  or  pageant,  which  represents  the  day 
of  judgment,  begins  thus  : 

Michael.  Surgite,  All  men  aryse, 
Venite  ad  judicium, 
For  now  is  set  the  High  Justice, 
And  hath  assignyd  the  day  of  dome : 
Kepe  you  redyly  to  this  grett  assyse.  . 
Both  gret  and  small,  all  and  sum. 
And  of  yowr  answer  yon,  now  advise, 
What  you  shall  say  when  that  yow  com,  &;c. 

These  and  such  like  were  the  plays,  which  in  former 
ages  were  presented  publicly :  Whether  they  had  any 
settled  and  constant  houses  for  that  purpose,  does  not 
appear;  I  suppose  not.  But  it  is  notorious  that  in 
former  times  there  was  hardly  ever  any  solemn  reception 
of  princes,  or  noble  persons,  but  pageants,  that  is, 
stages  erected  in  the  open  street,  were  part  of  the  en- 
tertainment. On  which  there  were  speeches  by  one  or 
more  persons,  in  the  nature  of  scenes  ;  and  be  sure  one 
of  the  speakers  must  be  some  saint  of  the  same  name 
with  the  party  to  whom  the  honour  is  intended.  For 
instance,  there  is  an  ancient  manuscript  at  Coventry, 
call'd  the  Old  LeetBook,  wherein  is  set  down  in  a  very 
particular  manner,  p.  168,  the  reception  of  Queen  Mar- 
garet, wife  of  Henry  VI,  who  came  to  Coventry  ;  and, 
I  think,  with  her,  her  young  son,  prince  Edward,  on 
the  feast  of  the  exaltation  of  the  holy-cross,  35  Hen.  VI. 


Clx  A   DIALOGUE,  &c. 


1456.  Many  pageants  and  speeches  were  made  for 
her  welcome;  out  of  all  which,  I  shall  observe  but  two 
or  three,  in  the  old  English,  as  it  is  recorded. 

St.  Edward.    Moder    of  mekeneSy    dame    Margaretc, 

princes  most  excellenty 
J  king  Ediimrd  wellcome  you  with  affection  cordial, 
Testefying  to  your  highnes  mekely  myn  entenl. 
For  the  wele  of  the  king  and  you  hertily  pray  I  shall. 
And  fur  prince   Edivard  my   gosily  chylde,  who  I  love 

principal. 
Praying  the,  John  Evangelist,  my  help  thcrevi  to  be. 
On  that  condition  right  humbly  I  give  this  ring  to  the. 

John  Evangelist.  Holy  Edward,  crowned  king,  brother 

in  verginity. 
My  power  plainly  I  will  prefer  thy  will  to  amplefy- 
Most  excellent  princes  of  wymen  mortal,  your  bedeman 

will  I  be. 
I  know  your  life  so  vertuous  that  God  is  pleased  thereby. 
The  birth  of  you  unto  this  reme  shall  cause  great  melody  : 
The   vertuous  voice  of  prince  Edward  shall  doyly   well 

encrease, 
St.    Edward   his    Godfader,    and  I  shall  prey  therefore 

doubtlese. 

St.  Margaret.  Most  notabul princes  of  wymen  carthle, 
Dame  Margarete,  the  chefe  myrth  of  this  empyre, 
Ye  be  hertely  welcome  to  this  cyte. 
To  the  plesure  of  your  highnesse  I  wyll  set  my  desyre  ; 
Both  nature  and  gentlenesse  doth  me  require, 
Seth  we  be  both  of  one  name,  to  shew  you  kindnessc ; 
Wherefore  by  my  power  ye  shall  have  no  distressc. 

I  shall  pray  to  the  prince  that  is  endlese 
To  socour  you  with  solas  of  his  high  grace ; 
He  will  here  my  petition,  this  is  doubtlesse, 
for  I  wrought  all  my  life  that  his  iv III  w ace. 
Therefore,  lady,  when  you  be  in  any  dredfull  case, 
Call  on  me  boldly,  thereof  I  pray  you. 
And  trust  inmefeythfuUy,  I  v.  ill  do  that  may  pay  you. 


A   DIALOGUE,  &c.  clxi 


In  the  next  reign,  as  appears  in  the  same  bgok,  fol. 
221,  another  prince  Edward,  son  of  king  Edward  \V. 
came  to  Coventry  on  the  28th  of  April,  14  Edward  IV. 
1474,  and  was  entertained  with  many  pageants  and 
speeches,  among  which  I  shall  observe  only  two;  one  was 
of  St.  Edward  again,  who  was  then  made  to  speak  thus : 

Noble  prince  Edvmrd,  my  cousin  and  my  knight, 
And  very  prince  of  our  line  com  yn  dissent, 
I  St.  Edward  have  pursued  for  your  fader's  imperial 

right, 
Whereof  he  was  excluded  by  full  furious  intent. 
Unto  this  your  chamber,  as  prince  full  excellent. 
Ye  be  right  welcome.      Thanked  be  Crist  of  his  sonde. 
For  that  that  was  ours  is  now  in  your  Jaders  honde. 

The  other  speech  was  from  St.  George,  and  thus 
saith  the  book. 

" Also  upon  the  condite  in  the  Croscheping 

**  was  St.  George  armed,  and  a  king's  daughter  kneling 
''  afore  him  with  a  lamb,  and  the  fader  and  the  moder 
'*  being  in  a  iowre  aboven  beholding  St.  George  saving 
"  their  daughter  from  the  dragon,  and  the  condite  ren- 
"  ning  wine  in  four  places,  and  minstralcy  of  organ  play- 
"  ing,  and  St.  George  having  this  speech  underwritten. 

0  mighty  God  our  all  succour  celestiall, 
Which  this  royme  hast  given  in  dower 
To  tin  moder,  and  to  me  George  protection  perpttuall 
It  to  defend  from  enimys  fer  and  nere, 
And  as  this  mayden  defended  was  here 
By  thy  grace  from  this  dragons  devour. 
So,  Lord, preserve  this  noble  prince  atid  ever  be  his  socour. 

Lovewit.  I  perceive  these  holy  matters  consisted  very 
much  of  praying;  but  I  pity  poor  St,  Edward  the  con- 
fessor, who,  in  the  comp  iss  of  a  few  years,  was  made 
to  promise  his  favour  and  assistance  to  two  young 
princes,  of  the  same  name  indeed,  but  of  as  different 
and  opposite  interests  as  the  two  poles.  1  know  not 
hov/  he  could  perform  to  both. 

Trueman.  Alas !  they  were  both  unhappy  notwith- 
voL.  I.  m 


clxii 


A  DIALOGUE,  &c. 


standing  these  fine  sliews  and  seeming  caresses  of 
fortune,  being  both  murder'd,  one  by  the  hand,  the 
other  by  the  procurement  of  Richard  duke  of  Glocester. 
I  will  produce  but  one  example  more  of  this  sort  of  ac- 
tion, or  representations,  and  that  is  of  later  time,  and 
an  instance  of  much  higljer  nature  than  any  yet  men- 
tioned ;  it  was  at  the  marriage  of  prince  Arthur,  eldest 
son  of  king  Henry  VII.  to  the  princess  Catharine  of 
Spain,  anil.  1501.  Her  passage  through  London  was 
very  magnificent,  as  I  have  read  it  described  in  an  old 
MS.  chronicle  of  that  time.  The  pageants  and  speeches 
were  many  ;  the  persons  represented,  St.  Catharine,  St. 
Ursula,  a  senator,  noblesse,  virtue,  an  angel,  king  Al- 
phonse,  Job,  Boetius,   &c.   among  others  one   is  thus 

described. "  lllien   this  spech  was  ended,  she   held 

"  071  her  way  tyll  she  came  unto  the  standard  in  Chepe, 
"  where  was  ordeyned  the  fifth  paygend  made  like  an 
"  hevyny  theryn,  syttyng  a  personage  representing 
'*  the  fader  of  hfvyn,  beyng  all  formyd  of  gold,  and 
**  hrennyng  beff'or  his  trone  vii  candy  ills  of  tvax  standyng 
"  in  vii  candy Istykis  (f  gold,  the  said  personage  beyng  en- 
"  viroued  wylh  sundry  hyrarchies  off  augtlis,  and  sytt- 
**  ing  in  a  cope  of  most  rich  cloth  of  tyssu,  garnishyd 
*'  wyth  stoon  and  perle  in  most  svmptnous  wyse. 
**  Foragain  which  said  pngend  upon  the  sowihsydeofihe 
**  strete  stood  at  that  tyme,  in  a  hows  ivheryn  that  tyme 
"  dwellyd  H^illiam  Ge^rey  habyrdasher,  the  king,  the 
**  queene,  my  lady  the  kingys  moder,  my  lord  of  Oxyn- 
*\fford,  wyth  many  other  lordys  and  ladys,  and  perys  of 
'*  this  realm,  wyth  also  certayn  ambassadors  of  France 
*'  lately  sent  from  the  French  king  :  and  so  passyng  the 
*'  said  €stalys,ey! her  guyving  to  other  due  and  convenyent 
"  SQluts  and  counienancs,  so  sone  as  hyr  grace  was  ap- 
**  proachid  unto  the  sayd  pagend,  the  fadyr  began  his 
**  spech  as  folowyth  : 

Hunc  veneram  locum,  septeno  lumine  septum. 
Dignumque  Arthuri  totidem  astra  micant, 

1  am  begynyng  and  ende,  that  made  ech  creature 
My  sylfC}  and  for  my  sylfe,  but  man  esspecially 


A  DIALOGUE,  &c.  dxiii 


BotJt,  male  and  female,  made  ojtyr  myne  au?ifygure, 

Whom  I  joyned  togydyr  in  matrimony, 

And  that  in  paradyse,  declaring  opynly 

That  men  shall  weddyng  in  my  chyrch  solempnize, 

Fygurid  and  signifyed  by  the  erlhly  paradyze. 

In  ihysmy  chyrch  I  am  allwuy  recydent 
As  my  chyeff  tabernacle,  and  most  chosyn  place. 
Among  these  goldyn  condylstikkis,  which  represent 
My  catholyk  chyrch  shynyng  a  for  my  face, 
With  lyght  cffeyth,  wisdom,  doctryne,  and  grace^ 
And  mervelously  eke  enflamyd  toward  me 
M'yth  the  extyngwiblefyre  of  chary ie. 

Wherefore,  my  welbelovid  dowtliyr  Kaiharyn, 
Syth  I  have  made  yow  to  myne  awn  semblance 
In  my  chyrch  to  be  maried,  and  your  noble  childryn 
To  regn  in  this  land  as  in  their  enherytance, 
Se  that  ye  have  me  in  speciall  remembrance  : 
Love  me  and  my  chyrch  yowr  spiritual  modyr. 
For  ye  dispysing  that  oon,  dyspyse  that  olhyr. 

Look  that  ye  walk  in  my  precepts,  and  obey  them  well  : 
And  here  I  give  you  the  same  biyssyng  that  I 
Gave  my  well  beloved  chylder  of  Israeli ; 
Blyssyd  be  the  Jruyl  of  your  bely  ; 
Yower  substance  and  frutys  I  shall  encrease  and  mul- 

lypiy ; 

Yower  rebellious  enimyes  I  shall  put  in  yowr  hand, 
Encreasing  in  honour  both  yow  and  yowr  land. 

Lovewit.  This  would  be  censured  now-a-days  as  pro- 
fane to  the  highest  degree. 

Trueman.  No  doubt  on't :  yet  you  see  there  was  a 
time  when  people  were  not  so  nicely  censorious  in  these 
matters,  but  were  willing  to  take  things  m  the  best 
sense;  and  then  this  was  thought  a  noble  entertain- 
ment for  the  greatest  king  in  Europe  (such  I  esteem 
king  Henry  VII.  at  that  time)  and  proper  for  that  day 
of  mighty  joy  and  triumph.  And  I  must  farther  ob- 
serve out  of  Lord  Bacon's  history  of  Henry  VH.  that 
the  chief  man  who  had  the  care  of  that  day's  proceed- 
ings was  bishop  Fox,  a  grave  counsellor  for  v/ar  or 


Clxiv  A    DIALOGUE,  &C. 


peace,  and  also  a  good  surveyor  of  works,  and  a  good 
master  of  ceremonies,  and  it  seems  he  approv'd  it. 
The  said  lord  Bacon  tells  us  farther,  That  whosoever 
had  those  toys  in  compiling,  they  were  not  altogether 
pedantical. 

Lovewit.  These  things  however  are  far  from  that 
which  we  understand  by  the  name  of  a  play. 

Trueman.  It  may  be  so ;  but  these  were  the  plays  of 
those  times.  Afterwards  in  the  reign  of  king  Henry 
VIII.  both  the  subject  and  form  of  these  plays  began 
to  alter,  and  have  since  varied  more  and  more.  I  have 
by  me,  a  thing  called  A  merry  play  between  the  Par- 
doner and  the  Frere,  the  Curate  and  Neybour  Pratte. 
Printed  the  5th  of  April  1533,  which  was  24  Henry 
VHI.  (a  few  years  before  the  dissolution  of  monaste- 
ries.) The  design  of  this  play  was  to  ridicule  Friers 
and  Pardoners.  Of  which  I'll  give  you  a  taste.  To 
begin  it,  the  Frier  enters  with  these  words : 

Deus  hie  ;   the  holy  trynyte 
Preserve  all  that  now  here  he. 

Dere  bretherne,  yf  ye  will  consyder 

1  he  cause  why  I  am  com  hyder, 

Ye  wolde  be  glad  to  knowe  my  en  tent: 

For  I  com  not  hyiherfor  mony  nor  J  or  rent, 

I  com  not  hyther  for  meat  nor  for  meale. 

But  I  com  hylhtrfor  your  soules  heale,  &c. 

After  a  long  preamble  he  addresses  himself  to  preach, 
■when  the  Pardoner  enters  with  these  words : 

God  and  St.  Leonarde  send  ye  all  his  grace, 
As  many  as  ben  assembled  in  this  place,  &c. 
and  makes  a  long   speech,  shewing  his  bulls  and  his 
reliques,  in   order  to  sell  his  pardons,  for  the  raising 
some  money  towards  the  rebuilding 

Of  the  holy  chappell  of  sweet  saynt  Leonarde, 
Which  late  by  fyre  was  destroyed  and  marde. 

Both  these  speaking  together,  with  continual  interrup- 
tion, at  last  they  fall  together  by  the  ears.     Here  the 


A   DIALOGUE,  &c.  clxv 


curate  enters  (for  you  must  know  the  scene  lies  in  the 
church), 

Hold  your  hands ;   a  vengeance  on  ye  both  iwOy 
That  ever  ye  came  hyther  to  make  this  ado, 
To  polute  my  chyrche,  &c. 

Frier,  Mayster  parson,  I  marvayll  ye  will  give  ly- 
cence 
To  this  false  knave  in  this  audience 
To  publish  his  ragman  rolles  with  lyes. 
I  desyred  hym  ywys  more  than  ones  or  twyse 
To  hold  his  peas  tyll  that  I  had  done, 
But  he  would  here  no  more  than  the  man  in  the  mone. 

Pardoner.  Why  sholde  I  suffre  the,  more  than  thou  me  ? 
Mayster  parson  gave  me  lycence  before  the. 
And  I  wolde  thou  knowest  it  I  have  relykes  here, 
Other  maner  stuffe  than  thou  dost  bere  : 
I  wyll  edefy  more  with  the  syght  of  it, 
Than  will  all  thy  praiynge  of  holy  wryt ; 
For  that  except  that  the  precher  himselfe  lyve  well. 
His  predycacyon  wyll  helps  never  a  dell,  &c. 

Parson.  No  more  of  this  wranglyng  in  my  chyrch  : 
J  shrewe  yowr  hertys  bothe  for  this  lurche. 
Is  there  any  blood  shed  here  befiveen  these  knaves  ? 
Thanked  he  god  they  had  no  stavys, 
Nor  egotoIes,for  then  it  had  ben  wronge. 
Well,  ye  shall  synge  anolher  songe. 

Here  he  calls  his  neighbour  Prat,  the  Constable, 
with  design  to  apprehend  'em,  and  set  'em  in  the  stocks. 
But  the  Frier  and  Pardoner  prove  sturdy,  and  will  not 
be  stock'd,  but  fall  upon  the  poor  Parson  and  Con- 
stable, and  bang  them  both  so  well-favour'dly,that  at  last 
they  are  glad  to  let  'em  go  at  liberty  :  and  so  the  farce 
ends  with  a  drawn  battle.  Such  as  this  were  the  plays 
of  that  age,  acted  in  gentlemen's  halls  at  Christmas,  or 
such  like  festival  times,  by  the  servants  of  the  family, 
or  strollers,  who  went  about  and  made  it  a  trade.     It 


Clxvi  A   DfALOGUE,  &c. 


is  not  unlikely  that  the^  lords  in  those  day,  and  per- 
sons of  eminent  qnality  had  their  several  gangs  of 
players,  as  some  have  now  of  fiddlers,  to  whom  they 
give  cloaks  and  badges.  The  first  comedy  that  I  have 
seen,  that  looks  like  rey:ular,  is  G(tmmer  Gurtoris 
Needle,  writ  ^,  I  tliink,  in  the  reign  of  kinji  Edward  VI. 
This  is  composed  of  five  acts,  the  scenes  unbroken,  and 
the  unities  of  time  and  place  duly  observed.  It  was 
acted  at  Christ's  College  in  Cambridge;  there  not 
being  as  yet  any  settled  and  public  theatres. 

Lovewit.  I  observe,  Trueman,  from  what  you  have 
said,  that  plays  in  England  had  a  beginning  much  like 
those  of  Greece  ;  the  Monologues  and  the  Pageants 
drawn  from  place  to  place  on  wheels,  answer  exactly  to 
the  cart  of  Thespis,  and  the  improvements  have  been 
by  such  little  steps  and  degrees  as  amon^  the  ancients, 
till  at  last,  to  use  the  words  of  Sir  George  Buck  (in  his 
Third  University  of  England)  "  Dramatic  poesy  is  so 
*'  lively  express'd  and  represented  upon  the  public 
**  stages  and  theatres  of  this  citv,  as  Rome  in  the  auge 
"  (the  highest  pitch)  of  her  ponip  and  glory,  never  saw 
'*  it  better  performed,  I  mean  (says  he)  in  respect  of 
"  the  action  and  art,  and  not  of  the  cost  and  sump- 
"  tuousness."  This  he  writ  about  the  year  1631. 
But  can  you  inform  me,  Trueman,  when  the  public 
theatres  were  first  erected  for  this  purpose  in  London  ? 

Trueman.  Not  certainly;  but,  I  presume,  about 
the  beginning  6^  queen  Elizabeth's  reign.  ~  For  Stow, 
in  his  survey  of  London  (which  book  was  first  printed 
in  the  year  1598)  says,  "  Of  late  years,  in  place  of  these 
**  stage  plays  (i.  e.  those  of  religious  matters)  have 
"  been  used  comedies,  tragedies,  interludes,  and  histo- 
**  ries,  both  tme  and  feigned;  for  the  acting  whereof 
"  certain  jiuhlick  places,  as  the  Theatre,  the  Curtine, 
"  &c.  have    been   erected."     And    the    continuator  of 

'  Till  the  25ih  year  of  oueen  Elizabeth,  the  queen  had  not  any 
players  ;  but  in  that  year  twelve  of  the  best  of  all  those  who  be- 
longed to  several  lords,  were  chosen,  and  sworn  her  servants. 
Stow's  Annals,  p.  698. 

8  See  vol.  11.  p.  3,  where  a  reason  is  assigned  for  supposing  that 
tliis  play  was  written  later. 


A   DIALOGUE,  &:c.  clxvii 


Stow*s  annals,  p.  1004,  says,  that  in  sixty  years  before 
the  publication  of  that  book,  (wliich  was  Ann.  Dom 
1529)  no  less  than  seventeen  publick  stages,  or  common 
play-houses,  had  been  built  in  and  about  London.  In 
which  num  er  he  reckons  five  inns  or  common 
osteries,  to  have  been  in  his  time  turned  into  play- 
houses, one  Cock-pit,  Saint  Paul's  singing-school,  one 
in  the  Black- friers,  one  in  the  White-friers,  and  one  in 
former  time  at  Newington  Butts;  and  adds,  before  the 
space  of  sixty  years  past,  I  nev-  r  knew,  heard,  or  read 
of  any  such  theatres,  stages,  or  play-houses,  as  have 
been  purposely  built  within  man's  memory. 

Lovewit.  After  all,  I  have  been  told,  that  stage-plays 
are  inconsistent  with  the  laws  of  this  kingdom,  and 
players  made  rogues  by  statute. 

Trueman.  He  that  told  you  so,  strain'd  a  point  of 
truth.  I  never  met  with  any  law  wholly  to  suppress 
them  :  sometimes,  indeed,  they  have  been  prohibited 
for  a  season  ;  as  in  times  of  Lent,  general  mourning,  or 
publick  calamities,  or  upon  other  occasions,  when  the 
government  saw  fit.  Thus  by  proclamation,  7  of  April, 
in  the  first  year  of  queen  Elizabeth,  plays  and  inter- 
ludes were  forbid  till  Allhallow-iide  next  following. 
Hollinshv^.d,  p.  1184.  Some  statutes  have  been  made 
for  their  regulation  or  reformation,  not  general  sup- 
pression. By  the  stat.  39  Eliz.  cap.  4.  (which  was 
made  for  the  suppressing  of  rogues,  vagabonds,  and 
sturdy  beggars)  it  is  enacted,  s.  2.  "  That  all  persons 
"  that  fee,  07'  utter  themselves  to  be,  proctors,  procurers, 
*'  patent  gatherers,  or  collectors  for  gaols,  prisons,  or 
*'  hospitals,  or  fencers,  bearwards,  common  players  of  m- 
**  terludes  and  minisirels,  wandering  abroad,  (other  than 
**  players  of  interludes  belonging  to  any  baron  of  this 
**  realm,  or  any  other  honourable  personage  of  greater 
**  degree,  to  be  authorized  to  play  under  the  hand  and 
**  seal  of  arms  of  such  baron  or  personage)  all  jiiglers, 
"  tinkers,  pedlars,  and  petty  chapmen,  wandWing  abroad, 
**  all  wandering  persons,  S^c.  able  in  body,  using  loyter- 
*'  i7ig,  and  refusing  to  work  for  such  reasonable  wages  as 
"  is  commonly  given,  &;c.     These  shall  be  adjudged  and 


Clxviii  A  DIALOGUE,  &C. 


"  deemed   rogues^  vagabonds,  and  sturdy  beggars,  and 
'*  punished  as  such." 

Loveivit.  But  this  privilege  of  authorizing  or  licens- 
ing, is  taken  away  by  the  stat.  Jac.  I.  ch.  7.  s.  1.  and 
therefore  all  of  them,  as  Mr,  Collier  says,  p.  242,  are 
expressly  brought  under  the  aforesaid  penalty,  without 
distinction. 

Trueman.  If  he  means  all  players,  without  distinc- 
tion, 'tis  a  great  mistake.  For  the  force  of  the  queen's 
statute  extends  only  to  wandering  players,  and  not  to 
such  as  are  the  king  or  queen's  servants,  and  esta- 
blish'd  in  settled  houses,  by  royal  authority.  On  such, 
the  ill  character  of  vagrant  players  (or,  as  they  are  now 
called,  strollers)  can  cast  no  more  aspersion,  than  the 
wandering  proctors,  in  the  same  statute  mentioned,  on 
those  of  Doctors-Commons.  By  a  stat,  made  3  Jac.  I. 
ch.  21.  it  was  enacted,  *'  That  if  any  person  shall,  in 
*^  any  stage-play,  inter lude,  shew,  may-game  or  pageant, 
"  jestingly  or  prophanely  speak  or  use  the  holy  name  of 
"  God,  Christ  Jesus,  or  of  the  Trinity,  he  shall  forfeit 
^' for  every  such  offence  ]0L"  The  stat.  1  Charles  I.  ch.  1. 
enacts,  *'  That  no  meetings,  assemblies,  or  concourse  of 
"  people  shall  be  out  of  their  own  parishes,  on  the  Lord*s 
*'  day,  for  any  sports  or  pastimes  whatsoever,  nor  any 
**  bear-baiting,  bull-baiting,  interludes,  common-plays,  or 
*'  other  unlawful  exercises  and  pastimes,  used  by  any  per- 
**  sou  or  persons  within  their  own  parishes.**  These  are 
all  the  statutes  thai  1  can  think  of,  relating  to  the  stage 
and  players;  but  nothing  to  suppress  them  totally,  till 
the  two  ordinances  of  the  long  parliament,  one  of  the 
^2d  of  October,  1647,  the  other  of  the  11th  of  Feb. 
1647  ;  by  which  ail  stage-plays  and  interludes  are 
absolutely  forbid  ;  the  stages,  seats,  galleries,  &c.  to  be 
pulled  down  ;  all  players,  tho'  calling  themselves  the 
king  or  queen's  servants,  if  convicted  of  acting  within 
two  months  before  such  conviction,  to  be  punished  as 
rogues  according  to  law ;  the  money  received  by  them 
to  go  to  the  poor  of  tlie  parish  ;  and  every  spectator  to 
pay  five  shillings  to  the  use  of  the  poor.  Also  cock- 
fighting  was  prohibited  by  one  of  Oliver's  acts  of  31, 


A  DIALOGUE,  &c.  clxi'x 


I^Iarch,  1654.  But  I  suppose  no  body  pretends  these 
things  to  be  laws.  I  could  say  more  on  this  subject, 
but  I  must  break  off  here,  and  leave  you,  Lovewit ;  my 
occasions  require  it. 

Lovewit.  Farewell,  old  Cavalier. 

Trueman.  *Tis  properly  said;  we  are  almost  all  of 
us,  now,  gone  and  forgotten. 


clxx  LETTERS  PATENT  FOR 


15  January,  14  Car.  II.  1662. 
A  Copy  of  the  Letters  Patents  then  granted  by 
Kin^  Charles  II.  under  the  Great  Seal  o/ England, 
to  Sir  William  D'avenant,  Knt.  his  Heirs  and  As-* 
signs,  for  erecting  a  new  Thtatre,  and  esiahlishing  of 
a  company  of  actors  in  any  place  v:ithin  London  or 
Westminster,  or  the  Suburbs  of  the  same  :  And  that 
no  other  but  this  company,  and  one  other  company,  by 
virtue  of  a  Wee  Patent,  to  Thomas  Killigrew,  Esq; 
should  be  permitted  within  the  said  liberties. 

Charles  the  second,  by  the  Grace  of  God,  king  of 
England,  Scotland,  France,  and  Ireland,  defender  of 
the  faith,  &c.  to  all  to  whom  all  these  presents  shall 
come,  greeting, 

Recites  former  pa-  Whereas  our  royal  father  of  glori- 
tents,  14  Car.  I.  ous  memory,  by  his  letters  patents 
ann.  1639.  to  Sir  under  his  great  seal  of  England  bear- 
Will.  D'avenant.  j^g  ^j^te  at  Westminster  the  26th  day 
of  March,  in  the  l4th  year  of  his  reign,  did  give  and 
grant  unto  Sir  William  D'avenant  (by  the  name  of 
William  D'avenant,  gent.)  his  heirs,  executors,  adminis- 
trators, and  assigns,  full  power,  licence,  and  authority, 
That  he,  they,  and  every  of  them,  by  him  and  them- 
selves, and  by  all  and  every  such  person  and  persons 
as  he  or  they  should  depute  or  appoint,  and  his  and 
their  laborers,  servants,  and  workmen,  should  and 
might,  lawfully,  quietly,  and  peaceably, frame,  erect,  new 
build,  and  set  up,  upon  a  parcel  of  ground,  lying  near 
unto  or  behind  the  Three  Kings  ordinary  in  Fleet- 
street,  in  the  parishes  of  St.  Dunstan's  in  the  west, 
London;  or  in  St.  Bride's,  London;  or  in  either  of 
them,  or  in  any  other  ground,  in  or  about  that  place, 
or  in  the  whole  street  aforesaid,  then  allotted  to  him  for 
that  use  ;  or  in  any  other  place  that  was,  or  then  after 


ERECTING   A  NEW  THEATRE.  clxXl 


should  be  assigned  or  allotted  out  to  the  said  Sir  Wil- 
liam D'avenant  by  Thomas  earl  of  Arundel  and  Surry, 
then  Earl  Marshal  of  England,  or  any  other  commis- 
sioner for  building,  for  the  time  being  in  that  behalf,  a 
theatre  or  play-house,  vviih  necessary  tiring  and  retiring 
rooms,  and  other  places  convenient  containing  in  the 
whole  forty  yards  square  at  the  most,  wherein  plays, 
musical  entertainments,  scenes,  or  other  the  like  pre- 
sentments might  be  presented.  And  our  said  royal 
father  did  grant  unto  tlie  said  Sir  William  D'avenant, 
his  heirs,  executors,  and  administrators  and  assignes, 
that  it  should  and  might  be  lawful  to  and  for  him  the 
said  Sir  William  D'avenant,  his  heirs,  executors,  ad- 
ministrators, and  assignes,  from  time  to  time,  to 
gather  together,  entertain,  govern,  privilege,  and  keep, 
such  and  so  many  players  and  persons  to  exercise  ac- 
tions, musical  presentments,  scenes,  dancing,  and  the 
like,  as  he  the  said  Sir  William  D'avenant,  his  heirs, 
executors,  administrators,  or  assignes,  should  think  fit 
and  approve  for  the  said  house.  And  such  persons  to 
permit  and  continue,  at  and  during  the  pleasure  of  the 
said  Sir  William  D'avenant,  his  heirs,  executors,  ad- 
ministrators, or  assignes,  from  time  to  time,  to  act 
plays  in  such  house  so  to  be  by  him  or  them  erected, 
and  exercise  musick,  musical  presentments,  scenes, 
dancino-,  or  other  the  like,  at  the  same  or  other  houses 
or  times,  or  after  plays  are  ended,  peaceably  and 
quietly,  without  the  impeachment  or  impediment  of  any 
person  or  persons  whatsoever,  for  the  honest  recrea- 
tion of  such  as  should  desire  to  see  the  same;  and  that 
it  should  and  might  be  lawful  to  and  for  the  said  Sir 
William  D'avenant,  his  heirs,  executors,  administra- 
tors, and  assigns,  to  take  and  receive  of  such  as  should 
resort  to  see  or  hear  any  such  plays,  scenes,  and  enter- 
tainments whatsoever,  such  sum  or  sums  of  money  as 
was  or  then  after,  from  time  to  time,  should  be  accus- 
tomed to  be  given  or  taken  in  other  play-houses  and 
places  for  the  like'plays,  scenes,  presentments,  and  en- 
tertainments as    in  and  by  the  said   letters  patents, 


Clxxii  LETTERS   PATENT  FOR 


relation  being  thereunto  had,  more  at  large  may  ap- 
pear. 

18  Car.  II.  exempli-  And  whereas  we  did,  by  our  letters 
fication  of  said  let-  patents  under  the  great  seal  of  Eng- 
ters  patents.  |aQcJ,  bearing  date  the  16th  day  of 

May,  in  the  13th  year  of  our  reign,  exemplifie  the  said 
recited  letters  patents  granted  by  our  royal  father,  as 
in  and  by  the  same,  relation  being  thereunto  had,  at 
large  may  appear. 

Surrender  of  botli  And  whereas  the  said  Sir  William 
to  the  king  in  the  D'avenant  hath  surrendered  our  letters 
court  of  Chancery,  patents  of  exemplification,  and  also  the 
said  recited  letters  patents  granted  by  our  royal  father, 
into  our  Court  of  Chancery,  to  be  cancelled  ;  which 
surrender  we  have  accepted,  and  do  accept  by  these 
presents. 

New  grant  to  Sir  Know  ye  that  we  of  our  especial 

William  D'avenant,  grace,  certain  knowledge,  and  meer 
his  heirs  and  assigns,  motion,  and  upon  the  humble  peti- 
tion of  the  said  Sir  William  D'avenant,  and  in  con- 
sideration of  the  good  and  faithful  service  which  he 
the  said  Sir  William  D'avenant  hath  done  unto  us, 
and  doth  intend  to  do  for  the  future  ;  and  in  consider- 
ation of  the  said  surrender,  have  given  and  granted, 
and  by  these  presents,  for  us,  our  heirs  and  successors, 
do  give  and  grant,  unto  the  said  Sir  William  D'avenant, 
his  heirs,  executors,  administrators,  and  assigns,  full 
power,  licence,  and  authority,  that  he,  they,  and  every 
one  of  them,  by  him  and  themselves,  and  by  all  and 
every  such  person  and  persons  as  he  or  they  should 
depute  or  appoint,  and  his  or  their  labourers,  servants, 
and  workmen,  shall  and  may  lawfully,  peaceably,  and 
To  erect  a  theatre  quietly,  frame,  erect,  new  build,  and 
in  London  or  West-  set  up,  in  any  place  within  our  cities 
minster,  or  the  su-  of  London  and  Westminster,  or  the 
^'ir^^*  suburbs  thereof,  where   he    or   they 

shall  find  best  accommodation  for  that  purpose  ;  to  be 
assigned  and  allotted  out  by  the  surveyor  of  our  works; 
one  theatre  or  play-house,  with  necessary  tiring  and 


ERECTING   A  NEW  THEATRE.  clx] 


retiring  rooms,  and  other  places  convenient,  of  such 
extent  and  dimention  as  the  said  Sir  William  D'ave- 
nant,  his  heirs  or  assigns  shall  think  fitting?  wherein 
tragedies,  comedies,  plays,  operas,  musick,  scenes,  and 
all  other  entertainments  of  the  stage  whatsoever,  may- 
be shewed  and  presented. 

'  And  we  do  hereby,  for  us,  our  heirs  and  successors, 
grant   unto    the   said  Sir  William  D'avenant,  his  heirs 
and  assigns,   full  power,  licence,  and  authority,  from 
time  to  time,  to  gather  together,  entertain,  govern,  pri- 
viledge  and  keep,  such  and  so  many  ^^^  to  entertain 
piayers  and  persons  to   exercise  and  players,  &c.  to  act, 
act  tragedies,  comedies,  plays,  operas,  without  the  im- 
and  other  performances  of  the  stage,  peachment  of  any  , 
within  the  house  to  be  built  as  afore-  P^^^°"- 
said,   or   within    the    house    in    Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, 
wherein  the  said  Sir  William  D'avenant  doth  now  exer- 
cise the  premises;  or  within  any  other  house,  where  he 
or  they  can  best  be  fitted  for  that  purpose,  within  our 
cities    of  London   and    Westminster,    or  the    suburbs 
thereof;  tvhich  said  company  shall  be  ihe  servants  of  our 
dearly  beloved  brother^  James  Duke  of  Y'ork,  and  shall 
consist  of  such  number  as  the  said  Sir  William  D'ave- 
nant, his  heirs  or  assigns,  shall  from  time  to  time  think 
meet.     And  such  persons  to  permit  and  continue  at 
and  during  the  pleasure  of  the  said  Sir  William  D'ave- 
nant, his   heirs   or   assigns,  from  time  to  time,  to  act 
plays   and    entertainments  of  the   stage,  of  all  sorts, 
peaceably  and  quietly,  without  the  impeachment  or  im- 
pediment of  any  person  or  persons  whatsoever,  for  the 
honest  recreation  of  such   as   shall   desire  to  see  the 
same. 

And  that  it  shall  and  may  be  lawful  to  and  for  the 
said  Sir  William  D'avenant,  his  heirs  and  assigns,  to 
take  and  receive  of  such  our  subjects  as  shall  resort  to 
see  or  hear  any  such  plays,  scenes  and  entertainments 
whatsoever,  such  sum  or  sums  of  money,  as  either  have 
accustomably  been  given  and  taken  in  the  like  kind,  or 
as  shall  be  thought  reasonable  by  him  or  them,  in  re- 
gard of  the  great  expences  of  scenes,  musick,  and  such 
new  decorations,  as  have  noL  been  formerly  used. 


Clxxiv  LETTERS   PATENT  FOR 


And  further,  for  us,  our  heirs,  and  successors,  we  do 
hereby  give  and  grant  unto  the  said  Sir  William  D'ave- 
nant,  his  heirs  and  ussij^ns,  full  power  to  make  such 
allowances  out  of  that  which  he  shall  so  .eceive,  by  the 
acting  of  plays  and  enlertainmcnts  of  the  stage,  as 
aforesaid,  to  the  actors  and  other  persons  imployed  in 
acting-,  representing,  or  in  any  quality  whatsoever, 
about  the  said  theatre,  as  he  or  they  shall  think  fit; 
and  that  the  said  company  shall  be  under  the  sole  go- 
vernmeni  and  authority  of  the  said  Sir  William  D'ave- 
nant;  his  heirs  and  assigns.  And  all  scandalous  and 
mutinous  persons  shall  from  time  to  time  be  by  him 
and  them  ejected  and  disabled  from  playing  in  the  said 
theatre. 

That  no  other  ^^d  for  that  we  are  informed  that 

company  but  this,  divers  companies  of  players  have  taken 
and  one  other  un-  ^pon  them  to  act  plays  publicly  in 
der  Mr.  Kilhgrew  ^^^  ^^^^  ^.^^^^  ^^  London  and  West- 
be  permitted  to  act        .  ■       i        i  /•      •  i 

within  London  or  mmster,  or  the  suburbs  thereoi,  witn- 
Westminster,  or  the  out  any  authority  for  that  purpose ;  we 
suburbs.  ^q  hereby  declare  our  dislike  of  the 

same,  and  will  and  grant  that  only  the  said  company 
erected  and  set  up,  or  to  be  erected  and  set  up  by  the 
said  Sir  William  D'avenant,  his  heirs  and  assigns,  by 
virtue  of  these  presents,  and  one  other  company  erected 
and  set  up,  or  to  be  erected  and  set  up  by  Thomas 
Killigrevv,  Esq.,  his  heirs  or  assigns,  and  none  other, 
shall  from  henceforth  actor  represent  comedies,  trage- 
dies, plays,  or  entertainments  of  the  stage,  within  our 
said  cities  of  London  and  Westminster,  or  the  suburbs 
thereof;  which  said  company  to  be  erected  by  the  said 
Thomas  Killigrew,  his  heirs  or  assigns,  shall  be  subject 
to  his  and  their  governnieiit  and  authority,  and  shall 
be  stiled  the  Company  of  Us  and  our  Royal  Consort. 

And  the  better  to  preserve  amity  and  correspondency 
betwixt  the  said  companies,  and  that  the  one  may  not 
incroach  upon  the  other  by  any  indirect  means,  we  will 
No  actor  to  go  from  and  ordain,  That  no  actor  or  other 
one  company  to  the  person  employed  about  either  of  the 
other.  said  theatres,  erected  by  the  said  Sir 

"William  D'avenant  and  Thomas  Killigrew,  or  either  of 


ERECTING  A  NEW  THEATRE.  clxXV 


them,  or  deserting  his  company,  shall  be  received  by 
the  governor  or  any  of  the  said  other  company,  or  any 
other  person  or  persons,  to  be  employed  in  acting,  or 
in  any  matter  relating  to  the  stage,  without  the  consent 
and  approbation  of  the  governor  of  the  company,  whereof 
the  said  person  so  ejected  or  deserting-  was  a  member, 
signified  under  his  hand  and  seal.  And  we  do  by  these 
presents  declare  all  other  company  and  companies, 
saving  the  two  companies  before  mentioned,  to  be 
silenced  and  suppressed. 

And  forasmuch  as  many  plays,  formerly  acted,  do 
contain  several  prophane,  obscene,  and  scurrilous  pas- 
sages ;  and  the  womens  parts  therein  have  been  acted 
by  men  in  the  habits  of  women,  at  which  some  have 
taken  offence ;  for  the  preventing  of  these  abuses  for 
the  future,  we  do  hereby  straitly  charge  and  command 
and  enjoyn,  that  from  henceforth  no  new  play  shall  be 
acted  by  either  of  the  said  companies,  containing  any 
passages  offensive  to  piety  and  good  manners,  nor  any 
old  or  revived  play,  containing  any  such  offensive  pas- 
sages as  aforesaid,  until  the  same  shall 
be  corrected  and  purged,  by  the  said  &°/°"''^  ^^^^'' 
masters  or  governors  of  the  said  re- 
spective companies,  from  all  such  offensive  and  scanda- 
lous passages,  as  aforesaid.  And  we  do  likewise  permit 
and  give  leave  that  all  the  womens  parts  to  be  acted  in 
either  of  the  said  two  companies  for  the  time  to  come, 
may  be  performed  by  women,  so  long  as  these  recrea- 
tions, which,  by  reason  of  the  abuses  aforesaid,  were 
scandalous  and  offensive,  may  by  such  reformation  be 
esteemed,  not  only  harmless  delights,  but  useful  and 
instructive  representations  of  humane  life,  to  such  of 
our  good  subjects  as  shall  resort  to  see  the  same. 

And  these  our  letters  patents,  or  the 
inrollment  thereof,  shall  be  in  all  things     ^^^^J^^^  bTood"' 
good  and  effectual  in  the  law,  accord-     ardeffectSthe 
ing  to  the  true  intent  and  meaning  of    jaw,  according  to 
the  same,  any  thing  in  these  presents     the  true  meaning 
contained,  or   any  law,  statute,   act,     of  the  same,  aJ- 

T  1  .•  •  •  though,  &c. 

ordinance,    proclamation,    provision, 


Clxxvi  LETTEllS  PATENT,  &c. 


restriction,  or  any  other  matter,  cause,  or  thing  what- 
soever, to  the  contrary,  in  any  wise  notwithstanding; 
although  express  mention  of  the  true  yearly  value,  or 
certainty  of  the  premises,  or  of  any  of  them,  or  of  any 
other  gifts  or  grants  by  us,  or  by  any  of  our  progeni- 
tors or  predecessors,  heretofore  made  to  the  said  Sir 
William  D'avenant  in  these  presents,  is  not  made,  or 
any  other  statute,  act,  ordinance,  provision,  proclama- 
tion, or  restriction  heretofore  had,  made,  enacted, 
ordained,  or  provided,  or  any  other  matter,  cause,  or 
thing  whatsoever  to  the  contrary  thereof,  in  any  wise 
notwithstanding.  In  witness  whereof,  we  have  caused 
these  our  letters  to  be  made  patents.  Witness  our  self 
at  Westminster,  the  fifteenth  day  of  January,  in  the 
fourteenth  year  of  our  reign. 

By  the  King.  HOWARD. 


GOD'S  PROMISES, 


VOL.  I. 


John  Bale,  author  of  the  Morality  of  God's  Promises, 
is  more  known  as  an  Historian,  and  Controversialist, 
than  as  a  Dramatick  writer.  He  was  born  on  the  21st 
of  November,  1495,  at  Cove,  a  small  village  near  Dun- 
wich,  in  Suffolk.  His  parents,  having  many  other  chil- 
dren, and  not  being  in  very  affluent  circumstances, 
sent  him,  at  the  age  of  twelve  years,  to  the  monastery 
of  Camelites  at  Norwich  *,  where  he  received  part  of  his 
education,  and  from  whence  he  removed  to  St.  John's 
College  t»  Cambridge t.  While  he  continued  at  the 
University,  being  as  he  says  seriously  stirred  up  by  the 
illustrious  the  Lord  Wentworth,  he  renounced  the 
tenets  of  the  church  of  Rome;  and,  that  he  might 
never  more  serve  so  execrable  a  beast,  I  took,  says  he, 
to  wife  the  faithful  Dorothy,  in  obedience  to  that 
divine  command,  '*  Let  him  that  cannot  contain, 
"  marry."  Bishop  Nicholson  insinuates,  that  his  dis- 
like to  a  state  of  celibacy  was  the  means  of  his  con- 
version, more  than  any  doubts  which  he  entertained 
about  the  truth  of  his  faith.  The  change  of  his  re- 
ligion exposed  him  to  the  persecution  of  the  Romish 
clergy,  particularly  of  Lee,  archbishop  of  York,  and 
Stokesley,  bishop  of  London  :  but  he  found  an  able  and 
powerful  proctor  in  the  person  of  Lord  Cromwell,  the 
favourite  of  Henry  the  Eighth.  On  the  death  of  this 
nobleman,  he  withdrew  into  the  Low  Countries,  and 
resided  there  eight  years;  in  which  time  he  wrote 
several  pieces  in  the  English  language.  On  the  ac- 
cession of  King  Edward  the  Sixth,  he  was  recalled 

*  It  is  said  by  Mr.  Wallis,  in  "  The  Natural  History  and  Anti- 
"  quities  of  Northumberland,"  4to.  vol.  i'.  p.  390,  tbat  John  Bale 
lived  and  studied  at  the  Abbey  of  Hulme  inth  at  county,  of 
which  society  he  was  a  member. 

t  Mr.  A.  Chalmers  in  Lis  Biographical  Dictionary,  says,  that 
Bale  was  of  Jesiis  College,  Cambridge.  C. 

t  The  writer  of  Bale's  article  in  the  Biographia  Britannica  hath 
fallen  into  a  mistake,  asserting  him  to  have  been  of  St.  John's 
College,  Oifovd.  Bale's  own  words  are  these  :  "  In  omni  litera- 
"  rum  barbarie  ac  mentis  coecilate  illic  et  Cantah  igi(e  pervagabar, 
"  nullum  habens  tutorem  aut  Mecsnatem  ;  donee,  lucente  Dei 
"  verbo,  ecclesize  revocari  coepissent  ad  verce  theologioe  purissimos 
•'  fontes."     Dr.  Berkenhout  hath  adopted  the  same  error. 


into  England,  and  obtained  the  living  of  Bishop's 
Stocke,  in  the  county  of  Southampton.  During  his 
residence  at  his  living,  he  was  almost  brought  to  the 
point  of  death  by  an  ague ;  when  hearing  that  the 
king  was  come  in  progress  to  Southampton,  five  miles 
only  from  where  he  dwelt,  he  went  to  pay  his  respects 
to  him.  "  I  toke  my  horse,  says  he,  about  10  of  the 
"  clocke,  for  very  weaknesse  scant  able  to  sytt  hym, 
"  and  so  came  thydre.  Betwixt  two  and  three  of  the 
*'  clocke,  the  same  day,  1  drew  towardes  the  place 
"  where  as  his  majestic  was,  and  stode  in  the  open 
*'  strete  ryght  against  the  gallerye.  Anon,  ray  frinde 
"  Johan  Fylpot,  a  gentylman,  and  one  of  hys  previe 
"  chambre,  called  unto  him  two  more  of  hys  com- 
*'  panyons,  which  in  moving  their  heades  towardes  me, 
**  shewed  me  most  frendely  countenaunces.  By  one  of 
*•  these  three  the  kynge  havynge  informacion  that  I 
**  was  there  in  the  strete,  he  marveled  thereof,  for  so 
"  much  as  it  had  bene  tolde  hym  a  lytic  afore  that  I 
"  was  bothe  dead  and  buried.  Widi  that  hys  grace 
"  came  to, the  wyndowe,  and  earnestly  behelde  me  a 
"  poore  weake  creature,  as  though  he  had  upon  me  so 
"  so  symple  a  subject  an  earnest  regard,  or  rather  a 
*'  very  fatherly  care."  This  visit  to  the  king  occasioned 
his  immediate  appointment  to  the  bishoprick  of  Ossory, 
which  was  settled  the  next  day,  as  he  declared*  after- 
wards, against  his  will,  of  the  king's  own  mere  motion 
only,  without  suit  of  friends,  meed,  labour^  expences,  or 
any  other  sinister  means  else.  On  the  20th  of  March, 
]553,t  he  was  consecrated  at  Dublin  by  the  arch- 
bishop of  that  see,  and  underwent  a  variety  of  perse- 
cutions from  the  Popish  party  in  Ireland,  which  at 
length  compelled  him  to  leave  his  diocese,  and  conceal 
himself  in  Dublin.  Endeavouring  to  escape  from  thence 
in  a  small  trading  vessel,  he  was  taken  prisoner  by  the 
captain  of  a  Du-tch  man  of  war,  who  rifled  him  of  all 


*  See  his  Vocacyon. 

t  Mr.  A.  Chalmers  gives  the  date  of  Bale's  consecration, 
February  2,  1553,  and  not  the  20th  of  March.  The  former  is 
correct.  C. 


5 

his  money,  apparel,  and  effects.  The  ship  was  then 
driven  by  stress  of  weather  into  St.  Ives  in  Cornwall, 
where  he  was  taken  up  on  suspicion  of  high  treason, 
but  soon  discharged.  From  thence,  after  a  cruize  of 
several  days,  the  ship  arrived  in  Dover  Road,  and  he 
was  again  put  in  danger  by  a  false  accusation.  On  his 
arrival  in  Holland,  he  was  kept  prisoner  three  weeks, 
and  then  obtained  his  liberty  on  payment  of  a  sum  of 
money.  From  Holland  he  retired  to  Basil  in  Switzer- 
land, and  continued  abroad  during  the  remainder  of 
Queen  Mary's  reign.  On  the  accession  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  he  returned  to  England;  but  being  dis- 
gusted with  the  treatment  he  met  with  in  Ireland,  he 
went  thither  no  more.  He  was  promoted  on  the  15th 
of  January,  1 560,  to  a  prebend  in  the  Cathedral  Church 
of  Canterbury,  and  died  in  that  city  in  Nov.  1563,  in 
the  68th  year  of  his  age.  According  to  the  manners 
of  the  times  in  which  he  wrote,  he  appears  to  have  taken 
very  indecent  liberties  with  all  his  antagonists  in  his 
religious  controversies,  and  to  have  considered  himself 
as  not  bound  by  any  rules  of  decorum  in  replying  to 
those  from  whom  he  differed  in  matters  wherein  the  in- 
terests of  Religion  were  concerned.  The  acrimony  of 
his  style  on  these  occasions  acquired  him  the  appella- 
tion of  bilious  Bale,  and  it  was  applied  to  him  with 
singular  propriety.  His  principal  work  is  esteemed  the 
Scriptorum  iUuslriuvi  majoris  Briiannice  quamriunc  An- 
gliam  et  Scotam  vacant  Catalogus ;  a  Japheto  per  3618 
annos  usque  ad  annum  hunc  domini  1 557,  &c.  first  printed 
imperfectly  at  Wesel  1549,  and  afterwards  more  com- 
pletely in  1557  and  1559,*  He  was  the  Author  of  a 
great  number  of  Dramatic  Pieces,  three  of  which 
only  appear  to  have  been  published,  viz. 

'*  A  Tragedye  or  Enterlude,  manyfesting  the  chefe 
*'  promyses  of  God  unto  Man  in  all  ages  of  the  olde 

*  Five  centuries  of  writers  seem  to  have  been  printed  at  IpswHch 
in  1549,  under  the  following  title.  Illustrium  Majoris  BritanicF 
Scriptorum,  hoc  est  Anglice,  Cambr'tcP,  et  Scotie,  Summarium.  Tlie  most 
complete  and  enlarged  edition  v,as  printed  at  Ba!*il  by  Oporinus 
in  1559.     C. 


''  lawe  from  the  fall  of  Adam  to  the  Incarnacyon  of 
"  the  Lorde  Jesus  Christ.  Compyled  by  Johan  Bale, 
"  Anno  Domini  1538,  8vo." 

Another  Edition  of  this  performance  was  printed  in 
4to.  by  John  Charlewood  1577,  and  in  the  title-page 
said  to  be  now  fyrst  imprinted.*     (See  Ames,  369.) 

"  A  brefe  Comedy  or  Enterlude  of  Johan  Baptystes 
"  preachyng  in  the  Wildernesse,  the  crafty  assaultes  of 
"  the  hypocrytes,  with  the  gloryouse  baptysme  of  the 
''  Lorde  Jesus  Christ.  Compyled  by  Johan  Bale, 
"  Anno  1538,  8vo." 

Re-printcd  in  the  Harleian  Miscellany. 

'*  A  brefe  Comedy  or  Enterlude,  concernynge  the 
"  temptatyon  of  our  Lorde  and  Saver  Jesus  Christ  by 
"  Sathan  in  the  desart.  Compyled  by  Johan  Bale, 
''  Anno  1538,  Svo."     (Ames,  497,  498.) 

According  to  Ames  all  these  pieces  were  originally 
printed  abroad. 

This  present  copy  is  taken  from  an  old  Black  Letter 
edition  in  4to.  in  the  valuable  collection  of  David 
Garrick,  Esq.  The  title-page  being  damaged,  I  am 
unable  to  give  the  date  of  it. 

It  will  not  be  imagined,  that  any  of  the  pieces  in 
this  volume,  except  Ferrex  and  Porrex,  are  given  as 
good ;  but  only  as  curiosities,  and  to  shew  from  what 
low  beginnings  our  stage  has  arisen.  If  in  this  view 
they  afford  any  entertainment,  it  is  all  that  is  intended. 
What  is  remarkable  in  this  drama  is,  that  it  is  divided 
into  seven  acts,t  and  at  the  end  of  each  act  is  a  kind 
of  chorus,  which  was  performed  with  voices  and  instru- 
ments. The  curious  reader  will  observe,  in  this  and 
the  other  pieces  which  compose  this  volume,  how  very 
loose  and  undetermined   the  orthography  of  our  lan- 

*  It  very  likely  was  llie  first  edition  from  an  English  press,  as 
the  copy  bearing-  the  date  of  1538,  as  the  time  when  it  was  "  com- 
"  piled"  by  Bale  was  obviously  printed  abroad,  and  probably  at 
Genera.     C. 

t  It  vnW  be  seen  that  the  design  of  the  author  necessarily  divided 
itself  into  seven  ages  or  periods,  for  the  seven  promises  by  the 
Creator  to  Adam,  Noah,  Abraham,  Moses,  David,  Esaias,  and  John 
the  Baptist.      C. 


guage  was  about  200  years  ago :  the  same  words  being 
so  constantly  spelled  different  ways,  makes  it  very  cer- 
tain they  had  no  fixed  rule  of  right  and  wrong  in 
spelling;  and  provided  the  letters  did  but  in  any 
manner  make  out  the  sound  of  the  word  they  would 
express,  it  was  thought  sufficient. 


INTERLOCUTORES, 

Pater  Ccelestis. 

Justus  Noah. 

Moses  sanctus.  i 

EsAiAS  propheta, 

Adam    primus  homo. 

Abraham  Jidelis. 

David  rex  plus. 

Joannes  baptista. 

Bale  us  prolocutor* 

*  This  list  of  characters  is  not  in  the  old  copy  but  was  made  out 
from  the  mention  of  persons  in  the  progress  of  the  piece.     C. 


GOD'S  PROMISES. 


Bale  us  Prolocutor, 

If  profyght  maye  growe,  most  Christen  audyence, 
By  knowle^e  of  thynges  whych  are  but  transytorye, 
And  here  for  a  tyme,  of  moch  more  congruence, 
Advantage   my^ht   sprynge,   by   the  serche  of  causes 

lieavenlye, 
As  those  matters  are,  that  the  Gospell  specyfye. 
Without  whose  knowledge  no  man  to  the  trulhe  can 

fall,* 
Nor  ever  atteyne  to  the  lyfe  perpetuall. 

For  he  that  knoweth  not  the  lyvynge  God  eternall, 
The  father,  the  sonne,  and  also  the  holye  Ghost, 
And  what  Christ  suffered  for  redempcyon  of  us  all, 
What  he  commaunded,  and  taught  in  every  coost, 
And  what  he  forbode,  that  man  must  nedes  be  lost, 
And  cleane  secluded,  from  the  faythfull  chosen  sorte, 
In  the  heavens  above,  to  hys  most  hygh  dysconforte. 

Yow  therfor  (good  fryndes)  I  lovyngely  exhort 
To  waye  soche  matters,  as  wyll  be  uttered  here, 
Of  whom  ye  may  loke  to  have  no  tryfeling  sporte 
In  fantasyes  fayned,  nor  soche  lyke  gaudysh  gere, 
But  the  thyngs  that  shall  your  inwarde  storaake  chear, 

*  The  old  copy  from  which  this  dramatic  piece  "was  first  reprinted 
by  Dodsley,  and  subsequently  by  Mr.  Reed,  having  been  damaged, 
and  a  part  of  the  leaf  lost,  it  was  not  possbie  to  ascertain  exactly 
the  last  word  of  this  line  :  it  was  therefore  supplied  by  conjecture 
and  not  very  happily  :  the  line  has  till  now  stood 

"  Without  whose  knowledge  no  man  to  the  truthe  can  come." 
But  the  form  of  the  stanza  and  the  rhime  in  the  next  line 
shews  decidedly  that  this  is  wrong.  There  are  objections  to  the 
word/rt//,  now  substituted  for  come,  for  the  sake  of  rhiming  with 
perpetuall :  to  fall  from  the  ti-uth,  however  is  not  an  uncommon  ex- 
pression, and  without  very  great  violence  in  a  case  of  such  necessity 
we  may  perhaps  also  use  to  fall  to  the  truth.     C. 


10  xjod's  promises.  [act  I. 


To  rejoyce  in  God  for  your  justyfycacyon, 
And  alone  in  Christ  to  hope  for  your  salvacyon. 

Yea,  first  ye  shall  have  the  eternal  generacyon 
Of  Christ,  like  as  Johan  in  hys  first  chaptre  wryght, 
And  consequentlye  of  man  the  first  creacyon, 
The  abuse  and  fall,  through  hys  first  oversyght, 
And  the  rayse  agayne  through  God's  hygh  grace  and 

myght: 
By  promyses  first,  whych  shall  be  declared  all. 
Then  by  hys  owne  sonne,  the  worker  pryncypall. 

After  that  Adam  bywayleth  here  hys  fall, 
God  v/yll  shewe  mercye  to  every  generacyon, 
And  to  hys  kyngedome,  of  hys  great  goodnesse  call 
Hys  elected  spouse,  or  faythfuU  congregacyon. 
As  here  shall  apere  by  open  protestacyon, 
AVhych  from   Christe's  birthe  shall  to  hys  death  con- 
clude : 
They  come  that  therof  wyll  shewe  the  certytude. 


ACTUS  PRIMUS.* 

Pater  ccelestis.  In  the  begynnynge,  before  the  hea- 
vens were  create, 
In  me  and  of  me  was  my  sonne  sempyternall 
With  the  holy  Ghost,  in  one  degre  or  estate 
Of  the  hygh  Godhed,  to  me  the  father  coequall, 
And  thys  my  sonne  was  with  me  one. God  essencyall. 
Without  separacyon  at  any  tyme  from  me. 
True  God  he  is,  of  equall  dignyte. 
Sens  the  begynnynge,  my  sonne  hath  ever  be, 
Joined  wyth  hys  Father  in  one  essencyall  beynge. 
All  thynges  were  create  by  hym  in  yche  degre. 
In  heaven  and  earthe,  and  have  their  dy verse  workynge: 
Wythout  hys  power,  was  never  made  anye  thynge. 
That  was  wrought ;  but  through  hys  ordynaunce. 
Each  have  hys  strength  and  whole  contynuance. 
In  hym  is  the  lyfe  and  the  just  recoveraunce 
•  The  commencement  of  this  Act  is  not  marked  in  the  original 
although  notice  is  given  of  its  conclusion.     C. 


ACT.  I.]  god's  promises.  11 


For  Adam  and  hys,  which  nought  but  deathe  deserved. 
And  thys  lyfe  to  men  is  an  hygh  perseveraunce, 
Or  a  lyght  of  faythe,  wherby  they  shall  be  saved. 
And  thys  lyght  shall  shyne  amonge  the  people  darkened 
With  unfaythfulnesse.     Yet  shall  they  not  with  hym 

take. 
But  of  wyllfull  hart  hys  lyberall  grace  forsake. 

Whycli  wyll  compell  me  agaynst  man  for  to  make 
In  my  dyspleasure,  and  sende  plages  of  coreccyon, 
Most  grevouse  and  sharpe,  hys  wanton  lustes  to  slake, 
By  water  and  fyre,  by  sycknesse  and  infeccyon, 
Of  pestylent  sores,  molestynge  hys  compleccyon, 
By  trou blouse  warre,  by  derthe  and  peynefull  scarse- 

nesse, 
And  after  thys  lyfe  be  an  extreme  heavynesse. 

I  wyll  first  begynne  with  Adam  for  hys  lewdenesse, 
Whych  for  an  apple  neglected  my  commaundement. 
He  shall  contynue  in  laboure  lor  hys  rashenesse, 
Hys  onlye  sweate  shall  provyde  hys  food  and  rayment: 
Yea,  yet  must  he  have  a  greatter  ponnyshment, 
Most  terryblf  deathe  shall  brynge  hym  to  hys  ende, 
To  teache  hym  how  he  hys  lord  God  shall  ofFende. 
Hie  prccceps  in  terrain  cadit  Adamus,  ac  post  quartum 
versum  deiiuo  resurgit. 
Adam  primus  homo.  Mercyfull  Father,  thy  pytiefull 
grace  extende 
To  me  carefull  wretche,  whych  have  mesore  abused, 
Thy  precept  breakynge.    O  Lorde,  I  mynde  to  amende, 
If  thy  great  goodnesse  wolde  now  have  me  excused, 
Most  heavenlye  Maker,  lete  me  not  be  refused, 
Nor  cast  from  thy  syght  for  one  pore  synnefull  cryme, 
Alas  1  am  frayle,  my  whole  kynde  ys  but  slyme. 

Pater  cceJestis.  I   wott  it  is  so,  yet  art  thu  no  lesse 
faultye. 
Than  thu  haddyst  bene  made  of  matter  moch  more 

worthye. 
I  gave  the  reason,  and  wytte  to  understande 
The  good  from  the  evyll,  and  not  to  take  on  hande. 
Of  a  braynelesse  mynde,  the  thynge  whych  I  forbad  the. 


12  god's  promises.  [act  I. 


Adam  primus    homo.    Soch   heavye    fortune    hath 
chefelye  chaunced  me, 
For  that  I  was  left  to  myne  owne  lyberte. 

Pater  ccelestis.  Then  thu   art  blamelesse,  and  the 

faulte  thu  layest  to  me. 
Adam  primus  homo.  Naye  all  I  ascribe  to  my  own 
imbecyllyte. 
No  faulte  in  the  Lorde,  but  in  my  infirmyte, 
And  want  of  respect  in  soche  gyftes  as  thu  gavest  me. 
Pater  ccelestis.  For  that  I  put  the  at  thyne  owne 
lyberte, 
Thu  oughtest  my  goodnesse  to  have  in  more  regarde. 
Adam  primus  homo.  Avoyde  it  I  cannot,  thu  layest  it 
to  me  so  harde. 
Lorde,  now  I  perceyve  what  power  is  in  man. 
And  strength  of  hymseife,  whan   thy  swete  grace  is 

absent. 
He  must  nedes  but  fall,  do  he  ihe  best  he  can, 
And  daunger  hymseife,  as  apereth  evydent; 
For  I  synned  not  to  longe  as  thu  wert  present ; 
But  whan  thu  wert  gone,  I  fell  to  synne  by  and  by, 
And  the  dyspleased.     Good  lorde  I  axe  the  mercy. 
Pater  calestis.  Thu  shalt  dye  for   it,  with  all  thy 

posteryte. 
Adam  primus  homo.   For   one   faulte,   good   lorde, 
avenge  not  thyself  on  me, 
Who  am  but  a  worme,  or  a  fleshelye  vanyte. 

Pater  ccelestis.  I  save  thu  shalt  dye,  with  thy  whole 

posteryte. 
Adam  primus  homo.  Yet  mercy  swete  lorde,  yf  anje 

mercy  maye  be.  * 

Pater  ccelestis.  I  am  immutable,  I  maye  change  no 
decre. 
Thu  shalt  dye  (I  saye)  without  anye  remedye. 

Adam  primus  homo.  Yet  gracyouse  Father,  extende 
to  me  thy  mercye, 
And  throwe  not  awaye  the  worke  whych  thu  hast  create 
To  thyne  owne  Image,  but  avert  from  me  thy  hate. 
Pater  ccelestis.  But  art  thu  sorye  from  bottom  of  thy 
hart? 


ACT  I.]  god's  promises.  13 


Adam  primus  homo.  Thy  dyspleasure  is  to  me  most 

heavye  smart. 
Pater  coelestis.  Than  wyll  I  tell  the  what  thu  shalt 
stycke  unto, 
Lyfe  to  recover,  and  my  good  faver  also, 

Adam  primus  homo.  Tell  it  me,  swete  Lorde,  that  I 

maye  therafter  go. 
Paler  cotlestis.  Thys  ys  my  covenant  to  the  and  all 
thy  ofsprynge. 
For  that  thu  hast  bene  deceyved  by  the  serpent, 
I  wyll  put  hatred  betwixt  hym  for  hys  doynge, 
And  the  woman  kyude.     They  shall  herafter   dyssent; 
Hys  sede  with  her  sede  shall  never  have  agrement; 
Her  sede  shall  presse  downe  hys  heade  unto  the  grounde, 
Slee  hys  suggestyons,  and  hys  whole  power  confounde. 
Cleave  to  thvs  promyse,  with  all  thy  invvarde  powre, 
Fyrmelye  enclose  it  in  thy  reuienibraunce  fast ; 
Folde  it  in  thy  faythe  with  full  hope  day  and  houre, 
And  thy  salvacyon  it  will  be  at  the  last. 
That  sede  shall  clere  the  of  all  thy  vvyckednesse  past. 
And  procure  thy  peace,  with  most  hygh  grace  in  ray 

syght. 
Se  thu  trust  to  it,  and  holde  not  the  matter  lyght. 
Adam  primus  homo.  Swete  lorde,  the  promyse  that 
thyself  here  hath  made  me, 
Of  thy  mere  goodnesse,  and  not  of  my  deservynge, 
In  my  faythe  I  trust  shall  so  establyshed  be, 
By  helpe  of  thy  grace,  that  it  shall  be  remaynynge 
So  longe  as  I  shall  have  here  contynuynge, 
And  shewe  it  I  v/yll  to  my  posteryte, 
That  they  in  lyke  case  have  therby  felycyte. 

Pater  ccelesiis.   For  a  closynge   up,    take   yet   one 

sentence  with  the. 
Adam  primus   homo.    At   thy  pleasure,   Lorde,  all 

thynges  myght  ever  be. 
Pater  coelestis.  For  that  my  promyse  maye  have  the 
deper  effect 
In  the  faythe  of  the  and  all  thy  generacyon, 
Take  thys  sygne  with  it,  as  a  seale  therto  connect. 
Crepe  shall  the  serpent,  for  hys  abhomynacyon ; 


14  god's  promises.  [act  I. 


The  woman  shall  sorowe  in  paynefull  propagacyon. 
Like  as  thu  shalt  findethys  true  in  outvvarde  wovkynge, 
So  thynke  the  other,  though  it  be  an  hydden  thynge. 

Adam  primus  homo.  Incessaunt   praysynge   to   the 
most  heavenlye  lorde 
For  thys  thy  socoure,  and  undeserved  kyndnesse 
Thubyndestmein  hart  thy  gracyouse  gyftesto  recorde, 
And  to  beare  in  mynde,  now  after  my  heavynesse, 
The  brute  of  thy  name,  with  inwarde  joye  and  glad- 

nesse. 
Thu  dysdaynest  not,  as  wele  apereth  thys  daye, 
To  fatche  to  thy  folde  thy  first  shepe  goynge  astraye. 

Most  myghtye  m.aker,  thu  castest  not  yet  awaye 
Thy  synnefull  servaunt,  whych  hath  done  most  olfence. 
It  is  not  thy  mynde  for  ever  I  shuld  decaye. 
But  thu  reservest  me,  of  thy  benyvolence, 
And  hast  provyded  for  me  a  recom pence. 
By  thy  appoyntment,  like  as  I  have  receyved 
In  thy  stronge  promyse,  here  openly  pronounced. 

Thys  goodnesse,  dere  lorde,  of  me  is  undeserved, 
I  so  declynynge  from  thy  first  instytucyon. 
At  so  lyght  mocyons.     To  one  that  thus  hath  swerved, 
What  a  lorde  art  thu,  to  geve  soche  retrybucyon ! 
J,  damnable  wretche,  deserved  execucyon 
Of  terryble  deathe,  without  all  remedye, 
And  to  be  put  out  of  all  good  memory e      * 

I  am  enforced  to  rejoyce  here  inwardelye, 
An  ympe  though  I  be  of  helle,  deathe,  and  dampnacyon, 
Through  my  owne  workynge :  for  I  consydre  thy  mercye 
And  pytiefull  mynde  for  my  whole  generacyon. 
It  is  thu,  swete  lorde,  that  workest  my  salvacyon, 
And  my  recover.     Therfor  of  a  congruence, 
From  hens  thu  must  have  my  hart  and  obedyence. 

Though  I  be  mortall,  by  reason  of  my  offence, 
■And  shall  dye  the  deathe*,  like  as  God  hath  appoynted : 

*  This  scriptural  expression  occurs  very  frequently  in  our  ancient 
dramatick  writers. 

Never  this  heart  shall  have  the  thoughtful  dread 
To  die  the  death  that  by  your  grace's  doom, 
By  just  deseirt,  shall  be  pronounc'd  to  me : 

Ferrex  and  Porrex,  A.  4.  S.  2. 


ACT.  II. J  god's  promises,  15 


Of  thys  am  I  sure,  through  hys  hygh  influence. 

At  a  serten  daye  agayne  to  be  revyved. 

From  grounde  of  my  hart  thys  shall  not  be  removed, 

I  have  it  in  faythe  and  therfor  I  will  synge, 

Thys  Antheme  to  hym  that  my  salvacyon  shall  brynge. 

Tunc  SGUora  voce,  provoiutis  genihus,  Antiphonam  incipit, 

O  sapientia,  quam  prosequetur  chorus  cum  organiSj  eo 

interim  exeunte. 

Vel  sub  eodem  tono  poterit  sic  Anglice  cantari. 

O  eternal  sapyence,  that  procedest  from  the  mouthe 
of  the  hyghest,  reachynge  fourth  with  a  great  power 
from  the  begynnynge  to  the  ende,  with  heavenlye 
swetnesse  dysposynge  all  creatures,  come  now  and  en- 
struct  us  the  true  wave  of  thy  godlye  prudence. 
Finit  Actus  primus. 


ACTUS  SECUNDUS. 

Pater  ccelestis.  I    have  bene  moved   to  stryke  man 
dyverselye. 
Sens  1  lefte  Adam  in  thys  same  earthly  mansyon ; 
For  whye?  he  hath  done  to  me  dyspleasures  manye, 
And  wyll  not  amende  hys  lyfe  in  anye  condycyon : 
No  respect  hath  he  to  my  worde  nor  monycyon, 
But  doth  what  hym  lust,  without  dyscrete  advysement. 
And  wyll  in  no  wyse  take  myne  advertysement. 

Cain  hath  slayne  Abel,  hys  brother,  an  innocent. 
Whose  bloude   from  the  earthe  doth  call  to  me  for 
vengeaunce: 

Either  to  die  the  death,  or  to  abjure 
For  ever  the  society  of  men. 

Midsummer's  Night's  Dream,  A.  l.S.  1. 
Or  else  he  must  not  only  die  the  death. 
But  thy  unkindness  shall  his  death  draw  out 
To  lingering  sufferance. 

Measure  for  Measure,  A.  2.  S.  4.   See  Dr.  Johnson  and 
Mr.  Steevens's  Notes  on  the  two  latter  passages. 
Wert  thou  my  bosom-love,  thou  dyst  the  death ; 
Best  ease  for  madness  is  the  loss  of  breath. 

Machin's  Dumb  Knight,  A.  f. 


16  god's  promises.  [act  II. 


My  children  with  mennis  so  carnallye  consent, 
That  their  vayne  workynge  is  unto  me  moche  grevaunce : 
Mankynde  is  butflesbe  in  hys  whole  daliyaunce. 
All  vyce  encreaseth  in  hym  contynuallye, 
Nothynge  he  regardeth  to  walk  unto  my  glorye. 

My  hart  abhorreth  hys  wylfuii  myserye, 
Hys  cankred  raalyce,  hys  cursed  covetousenesse, 
Hys  lustes  lecherouse,  hys  vengeable  tyrannye, 
Unmercyfull  mourther,  and  other  ungodlynesse. 
I  will  destroye  hym  for  hys  outragyousnesse. 
And  not  hym  onlye,  but  all  that  on  earthe  do  stere*, 
For  it  repenteth  me  that  ever  I  made  them  here. 
Justus  Noah.  Most  gentyil   maker,  with  hys  frayle- 
leness  sumwhat  beare, 
Man  is  thy  creature,  thyselfe  cannot  saye  naye. 
Though  thu  punysh  hym,  to  put  hym  sumwhat  in  feare, 
Hys  faulte  to  knowledge,  yet  seke  not  hys  decaye. 
Thu  mayest   reclayme    hym,   though    he    goeth    now 

astraye, 
-^And  brynge  hym  agayne,  of  thy  abundaunt  grace, 
To  the  fold  of  faythe,  he  acknowlegynge  liys  trespace. 
Pater  ccelestis.  Thu  knowest  I  have  geven  to  him 
convenyent  space, 
With  lawful  warnynges,  yet  he  amendeth  in  no  place. 
The  n'aturall  lawe,  which  I  wrote  in  hys  harte, 
He  hath  outraced,  all  goodnegse  puttynge  a  parte  : 
Of  helthe  the  covenaunt,  whych  I  to  Adam  made, 
He  regardeth  not,  but  walketh  a  damnable  trade. 
Justus  Noah.  All  thys  is  true,  lorde,  I  cannot  thy 
words  reprove, 
Lete  hys  weaknesse  yet  thy  mercyfull  goodnessemove. 
Pater  ccelestis.  No  weaknesse  is  it,  but  wylfull  work- 
ynge  all, 
That  reigneth  in  man  through  mynde  dyabolycall. 
He  shall  have  therfor  lyke  as  he  hath  deserved. 

Justus  Noah.  Lose   hym  not  yet,  lorde,  though  he 

hath  depelye  swerved. 
I  knowe  thy  mercye  is  farre  above  hys  rudenesse, 

•  Stir.  Glossary  to  Mandeville's  Voyages,  1725. 


ACT  II.]  COD*S    PROMISES.  17 

Beyeii^e  infynyte,  as  all  other  thynges  are  in  the. 
Hys  folye  therfor  now  pardone  of  thy  goodnesse, 
And  measure  it  not  beyonde  thy  godlye  pytie. 
Esteme  not  hys  faulte  farder  than  helpe  may  be, 
Butgraunt  hym  thy  grace,  as  he  offendeth  so  depelye, 
The  to  remembre,  and  abhorre  hys  myserye. 

Of  all  goodnesse,  lorde,  remembre  thy  great  mercye 
To  Adam  and  Eve,  breakynge  thy  first  commaunde- 

ment. 
Them  thu  relevedest  with  thy  swete  promysebeavenlye, 
Synnefull  though  they  were,  and  their  lyves  neglygent. 
I  knowe  that  mercye  with  the  is  permanent, 
And  will  be  ever,  so  longe  as  the  worlde  endure: 
Than  close  not  thy  hande  from  man,  whych  is  thy  crea- 
ture. 

Beynge  thy  subject,  he  is  undreneth  thy  cure. 
Correct  hym  thu  mayest,  and  so  brynge  hym  to  grace. 
All  lyeth  in  thy  handes,  to  leave  or  to  allure, 
Bytter  deathe  to  geve,  or  graunte  most  sufFren  solace. 
Utterlye  fiom  man  averte  not  then  thy  face, 
But  lete  hym  saver  thy  swete  benyvolence, 
Sumwhat,  though  he  fele  thy  hande  for  hys  offence. 

Pater  coelestis.  My  true  servaunt  Noah,  thy  ryght- 
ousnesse  doth  move  me 
Sumwhat  to  reserve  for  mannys  posteryte. 
Though  I  drowne  the  worlde,  yet  wyll  I  save  the  lyves 
Of  the  and  thy  wyfe,  thy  three  sonnes  and  their  wyves. 
And  of  ych  kynde  two,  to  maynteyne  yow  herafter. 

Justus  Noah.  Blessed  be  thy  name,  most  myghtye 
mercyfull  maker, 
"With  the  to  dyspute,  it  were  unconvenyent. 

Pater  coelestis.  Whye  doestthusaye  so?  be  bolde  to 
speke  thy  intent. 

Justus  Noah.  Shall  the  other  dye  without  any  re- 
medye  ? 

Pater  ccelestis.  I  wyll  drowne  them  all,  for  their  wyl- 
fuU  wycked  folye, 
That  man  herafter  therby  maye  knowe  my  powre, 
And  feare  to  ofFende  my  goodnesse  daye  and  houre. 


18  god's  promises.  [act  ir» 


Justus  Noah.  As  thy  pleasure  is,  so  myght  it  alwayes 
be, 
For  my  helthe  thu  art,  and  sowle's  felycyte. 

Pater  cceleslis.  After  that  thys  floude  have  had  hys 
ragynge  passage, 
Thys  shall  be  to  the  my  covenaunt  everlastynge. 
The  sees  and  wate'rs  so  farre  never  more  shall  rage. 
As  all  fieshe  to  drowne,  I  wyll  so  tempre  their  work- 

ynge; 
Thys  sygne  wyll  I  adde  also,  to  confirme  the  thynge. 
In  the  cloudes  above,  as  a  seale  or  token  clere, 
For  savegarde  of  man,  my  raynebowe  shall  apere. 

Take  thu  thys  covenaunt  for  an  ernest  confirraacyon 
Of  mv  former  promyse  to  Adam's  generacyon. 

Justus  Noah.  I  wyll,  blessed  lorde,  with   my  whole 
hart  and  mynde. 

Pater  cctlestis.  Farewele  than,  just  Noah,  here  leave 
I  the  behynde. 

Justus  Noah.  Most  myghtye  maker,  ere  I  from  hens 
depart, 

must  geve  the  prayse  from  the  bottom  of  my  hart. 

Whom  may  we  thanke,  lorde,  for  our  helthe  and 
salvacyon 
But  thy  great  mercye  and  goodnesse  undeserved? 
Thy  promyse  in  faythe,  is  our  justyfycacyon. 
As  it  was  Adam's,  whan  hys  hart  therin  rested, 
And  as  it  was  theirs,  v/hych  therein  also  trusted. 
Thys  faythe  was  grounded  in  Adam's  memorye, 
And  clerelye  declared  in  Abel's  innocencye. 

Faythe  in  that  promyse,  olde  Adam  ded  justyfye. 
In  that  promyse  faythe,  made  Eva  to  prophecye. 
Faythe  in  that  promyse,  proved  Abel  innocent, 
In  that  promyse  faythe,  made  Seth  full  obedyent. 
That  faythe  taught  Enos,  on  God's  name  first  to  call, 
And  made  Mathusalah  the  oldest  man  of  all. 

Thatfayth  brought  Enoch  to  so  hygh  exercyse, 
That  God  toke  hym  up  with  hym  into  paradyse. 
Of  that  faythe  the  want,  made  Cain  to  hate  the  good, 
And  all  hys  ofsprynge  to  peryshe  in  the  flood. 


ACT  III.]  GOD*S   PROMISES.  19 


Faythe  in  that  promyse,  preserved  both  me  and  myne. 
So  wyll  it  all  them  vvhych  folowe  the  same  lyne. 

Not  onlye  thys  gyfte  thu  hast  geven  me,  swete  lorde, 
But  with  it  also  thyne  everlastynge  covenaunt, 
Of  trust  for  ever,  thy  raynebowe  bearynge  recorde. 
Nevermore  todrowne  theworldeby  floude  inconstaunt, 
Makynge  the  waters  more  peaceable  and  plesaunt, 
Alac  I  can  not  to  the  geve  prayse  condygne, 
Yet  wyll  I  synge  here  with  harte  meke  and  benygne. 
Magna  tunc  voce  Antiphonam  incipit,0  oriens  splendor, 

^c.  in  genua  cadens ;    quam  chorus  prosequetur  cum 

oTganis  ut  supra. 

Vel  Anglice  sub  codem  tono. 

O  most  orient  clerenesse,  and  lyght  shynynge  of  the 
sempiternall  bryghtnesse!  O  clere  sunne  of  justyce 
and  heavenlye  ryghtousnesse  !  come  hyther  and  illu- 
myne  the  prisoner,  syttynge  now  in  the  darke  prison 
and  shaddowe  of  eternall  deathe. 

Finit  Actus  secundus. 


INCIPir  ACTUS  TERTIUS. 

Pater  calestis.  Myne  hygh  displeasure  must  nedes  re- 

turne  to  man, 
Consyderynge  the  synne  that  he  doth  daye  by  daye ; 
For  neyther  kyndenesse,  nor  extreme  handelynge  can, 
Make  hym  to  knowe  me  by  anyfaythfuU  waye, 
But  styll  in  myschefe  he  walketh  to  hys  decaye. 
If  he  do  not  sone  hys  wyckednesse  consydre, 
He  is  lyke,  doubtlesse,  to  perysh  all  togydre. 

In  my  syght,  he  is  more  venym  than  the  spyder, 
Through  soch  abuses  as  he  hath  exercysed. 
From  the  tyme  of  Noah,  to  this  same  season  hyder. 
An  uncomelye  acte  without  shame  Cham  commysed, 
When  he  of  hys  father  the  secrete  partes  reveled. 
In  lyke  case  Nemrod  against  me  wrought  abusyon, 
As  he  raysed  up  the  castell  of  confusyon. 

Ninus  hath  also,  and  all  by  the  devyl's  illusyon, 
Through  ymage  makynge,  up  raysed  idolatrye, 
Me  to  dyshonoure.     And  now  in  the  conclusyon 


20  god's  promises.  [act   III. 


The  vyle  Sodomytes  lyve  so  unnaturallye, 

That  their  synne  vengeaunce  axeth  contynuaHye, 

For  my  covenaunte's   sake,  I   wyll  not  drowne  with 

water, 
Yet  shall  I  vysyte  their  synnes  with  other  matter. 
Abraham  fidelis.  Yet,  mercyfuU  lorde^  thy  gracyous- 

nesse  remembre 
To  Adam  and  Noah,  both  in  thy  worde  and  promes: 
And  lose  not  the  sowles  of  men  in  so  great  nombre, 
But  save  thyne  owne  worke,  of  thy   most   dyscrete 

goodness. 
I  wote  thy  mercyes  are  plentyfuU  and  endles. 
Never  can  they  dye,  nor  fayle,  thyself  endurynge, 
Thys  hath  faythe  fixed  fast  in  my  understandynge. 
Pater  ccelestis.  Abraham  my  servaunt,  for  thy  most 

faythfuU  meanynge, 
Both   thu   and   thy   stocke  shall   have  my  plentouse 

blessynge. 
Where  the  unfaythfuli,  undre  my  curse  evermore, 
For  their  vayne  workynge,  shall  rewe  their  wyckednesse 

sore. 
Abraham  fidelis.  Tell  me,  blessed  lorde,  where  wyll 

thy  great  malyce  lyght. 
My  hope  is,  all  fleshe  shall  not  perysh  in  thy  syght. 
Pater  ccelestis.  No  trulye  Abraliam,  thu  chauncest 

upon  the  ryght. 
The  thynge  I  shall  do,  J  wyll  not  hyde  from  the, 
Whom  I  have  blessyd  for  thy  true  fydelyte  : 
For  I  knowe  thou  wilt  cause  both  thy  chyldren  and 

servauntes, 
In  my  wayes  to  walke,  and  trust  unto  my  covenauntes, 
That  I  may  perfourme  with  the  my  earnest  promes. 
Abraham  fidelis.  All  that  wyll  I  do,  by  assystence  of 

thy  goodnes. 
Pater  ccelestis.  From  Sodom  and  Gomor,  the  abho- 

mynacyons  call 
For  my  great  vengeaunce,  whych  wyll  upon  them  fall. 
Wylde  fyre  and  brymstone  shall  lyght  upon  them  all. 
Abraham  fidelis,  Pytiefull  maker,  though  they  have 

kyndled  thy  furye, 


ACT  HI.]  god's  rUOMISES.  -21 


Cast  not  awaye  yet  the  just  sort  with  the  ungodlye. 
Paraventure  there  maye  be  fiftye  ryghteouse  persones 
Within  those  cyties,  wylt  thu  lose  them  all  at  ones, 
And  not  spare  the  place,  for  those  fyftye  ryghteouse 

sake? 
Be  it  farre  from  the  soch  rygoure  to  undertake. 

I  hope  there  is  not  in  the  so  cruell  hardenesse, 
As  to  cast  awaye  the  just  men  with  the  rechelesse, 
And  so  to  destroye  the  good  with  the  ungodlye. 
In  the  judge  of  all,  be  never  soch  a  furye. 

Pater  ccelestis.  At  Sodom,  if  I  may  fynde  just  per- 
sones fiftye, 
The  place  wyil  1  spare  for  their  sakes  verelye. 

Abraham  fidelis.  I  take  upon  me,  to  speake  here  in 
thy  presence. 
More  then  become  me,  lorde  pardon  my  neglygence : 
I  am  but  ashes,  and  were  lotlie  the  to  offende. 

Pater  ccelestis.  Saye  fourth,  good  Abraham,  for  yll 

dost  thu  non  intende. 
Abraham  /idelU   Happlye  there  maye  be  fyve  lesse  in 
the  same  nombre  ; 
For  their  sakes  I  trust  thu  wylt  not  the  rest  accombre*. 
Pater  coclestis.  If  I  amonge  them  myght  fynde  but 
fyve  and  fortye. 
Them  wolde  I  not  lose  for  that  just  companye. 

Abraham  fidelis.  What  if  the  cytie  maye  fortye  rygh- 
teouse make  ? 

*  Chaucer,  in  his  Canterbury  Tale's,  1.  509.  describing  the  Parson  , 
says, 

"  He  sette  not  his  benefice  to  hire, 
"  And  letce  his  sliepe  accombred  in  the  mire,  occ." 
Dr.   Mom  11  spells  the  word  accumhrit,  and  explains  it  in  this 
manner :  "  Accuiuhrit  may  be  interpreted  to  ualloic,  to  lie  down,  qu 
"  accumbere.     But  Chauc«-r  sometimes  uses  it  another  sense. 
"  That  they  were  acombrit  in  thf-ir  own  distreyt. 

Me  chants'  2d  Tale,  2910. 
"  i.  e.  they  were  encumbred,  brought  into  great  Streights.  A  vet. 
"  Gall.  Covibre  or  Vomble. 

"   Ihro'  Wine  and  Women  ther  was  Loth  accombred." 

Pierce  Plowman's  Visions. 
None  of  these  explanations  exactly  agree  with  the  text.     Bishop 
Bale  certainly  means,  agreably  to  the  passage  in  the  Bible  to  which 
lie  alludes,  to  destroy  or  overxjchelm. 


22  god's  promises.  [act  hi. 


Pater  coelestis.  Then  wyll   I  pardone   it   for   those 

same  fortye's  sake. 
Abraham  Jidelis.  Be  not   angrye,  lorde,    though  I 

speake  undyscretelye. 
Pater  ccelestis.  Utter  thy  whole  mynde,  and  spare 

me  not  hardelye. 
Abraham Jidelis.  Perauventure  there  maye  be  thirty 

,    founde  amonge  them. 
Pater  cwlestis.  Maye  I  fynde  thirty,  I  wyll  nothynge 

do  unto  them. 
Abraham  fidelis.  I  take  upon  me  to  moche,  lorde,  in 

thy  syght. 
Pater  ccelestis.  No,  no,  good  Abraham,  for  I  knowe 

thy  faythe  is  right. 
Abraham  fidelis.  No   lesse,   I  suppose,  than  twenty 

can  it  have. 
Pater  ccelestis.  Coulde  I   fynde   twenty,   that  cytie 

wolde  I  save. 
Abraham  fidelis.  Ones  yet  wyll  1  speake  my  mynde^ 

and  than  no  more. 
Pater  ccelestis.  Spare  not  to  utter  so  moche  as  thu 

hast  in  store. 
Abraham  fidelis.  And  what  if  there  myght  be  ten 

good  creatures  founde? 
Pater   ccelestis.  The  rest  for  their  sakes  myght  so  be 
safe  and  sounde, 
And  not  destroyed  for  their  abhomynacyon. 

Abraham  Jidelis.  O  mercyfuU  maker,  moche  is  thy 
tolleracyon 
And  sufFeraunce  of  synne.     I  se  it  now  in  dede, 
Witsave  yet  of  faver  out  of  those  cyties  to  leade 
Those  that  be  faythfuli,  though  their  flocke  be  but 
small. 
Pater  ccelestis.  Loth  and  hys  howsholdc,  I  wyll  de- 
lyver  all, 
For  ryghteousnesse  sake,  whych  is  of  me  and  not  them. 
Abraham  Jidelis.  Great  are  thy  graces  in  the  gene- 

racyon  of  Sem. 
Pater  ccelestis.  Well  Abraham,   well,  for   thy   true 
faythfulnes, 


ACT  III.]  god's  promises.  23 


Now  wyll  I  geve  the  my  covenaunt,  or  third  promes. 
Loke  thu  beleve  it,  as  thu  covetyst  ryghtuousnesse. 

Abraham  fidelis.  Lorde  so  regarde  me,  as  I  receyve 
it  with  gladnesse. 

Pater  ccelestis.  Of  manye  peoples  the  father  I  wyll 
make  the. 
All  generacyons  in  thy  sede  shall  be  blessyd. 
As  the  starres  of  heaven,  so  shall  thy  kyndred  be; 
And  by  the  same  sede  the  worlde  shall  be  redressed. 
In  cyrcumcysyon  shall  thys  thynge  be  expressed, 
As  in  a  sure  seale,  to  prove  my  promyse  true, 
Prynt  thys  in  thy  faythe,  and  it  shall  thy  sowle  renue. 

Abraham  Jidelis.  1  wyll  not  one  jote,  lorde,  from  thy 
wyll  dyssent, 
But  to  thy  pleasure  be  alvvayes  obedyent, 
Thy  lawes  to  fullfyil,  and  most  precyouse  commaunde- 
ment. 

Pater  ccelestis.  Farwele  Abraham,  for  heare  in  place 
!  leave  the. 

Abraham  fidelis.  Thankes  wyll   I  rendre,  lyke  as  it 
shall  behove  m.e. 

Everlastynge  prayse  to  thy  most  gloryouse  name, 
Whych  savedyst  Adam  through  faythe  in  thy  sweet 

promes 
Of  the  womannys  sede,  and  now  confyrmest  the  same 
In  the  sede  of  me.     Fosoth  great  is  thy  goodnes 
I  can  not  perceyve,  but  that  thy  mercye  is  eudles, 
To  soch  as  feare  the,  in  every  generacyon, 
For  it  endureth  v.'ithout  abrevyacyon. 

Thys  have  I  prynted  in  depe  consyderacyon, 
No  worldly  matter  can  race  it  out  of  mynde. 
For  ones  it  wyll  be  the  fynall  restauracyon 
Of  Adam  and  Eve,  with  other  that  hath  synde ; 
Yea,  the  sure  helthe  and  rayse  of  all  mankynde. 
Helpe  have  the  faythfull  therof,  though  they  be  infect, 
They  condempnacyon  where  as  it  is  reject. 

MercyfuU  maker,  my  crabbed  voyce  dyrect, 
That  it  maye  breake  out  in  some  swete  prayse  to  the ; 
And  sufFre  me  not  thy  due  lawdes  to  neglect, 
But  lete  me  shewe  forth  thy  commendacyons  fre. 


24 


god's  promises.  [act  VI. 


Steppe  not  my  wynde  pypes,  but  geve  them  lyberte, 
To  sounde  to  Ihy  name,  Avhych  is  most  gracyouse. 
And  in  it  rejoyce  with  hart  melodyouse. 
Tunc  alia  voce  canit  Aniiphonam,  O  rex  gentium,  c^oro 
eandem  prosequente  cum  orgauis,  ut  prius  : 
Vet  Angllce  hoc  modo, 
O  most  myghtye  governourof  thy  people,  and  in  hart 
most  desyred,  the  harde  rocke  and  true  corner  stone, 
that  of  two  maketh  one,  unynge  the  Jews  with  the 
Gentyles  in  one  churche,  come  now  and  releve  man- 
kynde  whom  thu  hast  fourmed  of  the  vyle  earthe. 
Finit  Actus  teriius. 


INCIPIT  ACTUS  QUARTUS. 

Pater  ccslestis.  Sty  11  so  increaseth  the  wyckednesse 
of  man. 
That  I  am  moved  with  plages  hym  to  confounde. 
Hys  weakenesse  to  ayde,  I  do  the  best  I  can, 
Yet  he  regardeth  me  no  more  than  doth  an  hounde. 
Myworde  and  promyse,inhysfaythe  taketh  nogrounde, 
He'wyll  so  longe  waike  in  hys  owne  lustes  at  large, 
"ihat  nought  he  shall  fynde  hys  folye  to  dyscharge. 

Sens  Abraham's  tyme,  whych  was  my  true  elect, 
Ismael  have  I  founde  both  wycked,  fearce,  and  cruell. 
And  Esiiu  in  mynde  with  hateful!  murther  infect. 
The  sonnes  of  Jacob  to  lustes  unnatural  fell, 
And  into  Egypte  ded  they  their  brother  sell. 
Laban  to  ydolles  gave  faythfull  reverence, 
Dina  was  corrupt  through  Sichem's  vyolence. 

Ruben  abused  hys  father's  concubyni?, 
Judas  gate  chyldren  of  his  own  doughter  in  lawe  : 
Yea,  her  in  my  syght  went  after  a  wycked  lyne. 
Hys  sede  Onan  spylte,his  brother's  name  to  withdrawe. 
Achan  lyved  heie  without  all  godlye  awe. 
And  now  the  chyldren  of  Israel  abuse  my  powre, 
In  so  vyle  maner,  that  they  move  me  everye  howre. 

Moses  sanctus.  Pacyfye  thy  wrathe,  swete  lorde  ,  I 
the  desyre, 
As  thu  art  gentyll,  benygne  and  pacyent 
Lose  not  that  people  in  fearcenesse  of  thine  yre 


ACT  IV.]  god's  promises.  25 


For  whom  thu  hast  shewed  soche  tokens  evydent, 
Convertynge  thys  rodde  into  a  lyvelye  serpent, 
And  the  same  serpent  into  thys  rodde  agayne, 
Thy  wonderful  I  power  declarynge  very  playne. 

For  their  sakes  also  puttest  Ptiarao  to  payne. 
By  ten  dy verse  plages,  as  I  shall  here  declare. 
By  bloude,  frogges,  and  lyce,  by  flyes,  death,  botche, 

and  blayne. 
By  hayle,  by  grassoppers,  by  darknesse,  and  by  care  : 
By  a  soden  plage,  all  their  hist  gotten  ware 
Thu  slevvest  in  one  nyght,  for  hys  fearce  cruelnesse. 
From  that  thy  people,  witholde  notnow  thy  goodnesse. 
Pater  coslestis.  1  certyfye   the,  my  chosen  servaunt 

Moses, 
That  people  of  myne  is  full  of  unthankefulnes. 

Moses  sancfus.   Dere  lorde,  I  knov/e  it,  alas,  yet  waye 

their  weakenesse, 
And  beare  with  their  faultes,  of  thy  great  bounteous- 

nesse. 
In  aflamynge  bushe,  havynge  to  ihera  respect, 
Thu  appoyntecist  me  their  passage  to  direct: 
And  through  the  reade  see  thy  ryght  hande  ded  us  lede 
Where  Pharoe's  boost  the  floude  overwhelmed  in  dede. 
Thu  wentest  before  them  in  a  shynynge  cloude  all 

daye, 
And  in  the  darke  nyght,  in  fyre  thu  shewedest  their  waye. 
Thu  sentest  them  manna  from  heaven,  to  be  their  food. 
Out  of  die  harde  stone  ihu  gavest  them  water  good. 
Thu  appoyntedest  them  a  lande  of  mylke  and  honye. 
Let  them  not  perysh  for  want  of  thy  great  mercye. 
Pater  cwlestls.  Content  they  are  not  with   foule  nor 

yet  with  fay  re. 
But  murmour  and  grudge,  as  people  in  dyspayre. 
As  I  sent  manna,  they  had  it  in  dysdayne, 
Thus  of  their  welfare  they  manye  tymes  complayne. 
Over  Amalech  I  gave  them  the  vyctorye. 
Moses  sanctus.  Most  gloryouse  maker,  all  that  is  to 

thy  glorye. 
Thu  sentest  them  also  a  lawe  from  heaven  above, 
And  dalye  shewedest  ihem  manye  tokens  of  great  love. 


^S  god's  promises.  [act  IV, 


The  brazen  serpent  thu  gavest  them  for  their  healynge, 
And  Balaam's  curse  thu  turiiedest  into  a  biessynge. 
I  hope  thu  wilt  not  dysdayne  to  help  them  stylU 

Pater  coelestis.  1  gave  them  preceptes,  which  they 

will  not  fulfyll. 
Nor  yet  knowledge  me  for  their  God  and  good  lorde, 
So  do  their  vyle  dedes  with  their  wycked  hartes   ac- 

corde 
Why  Is  thu  hast  talked  with  me  famylyarlye 
In  Synai's  mountayne,  the  space  but  of  dayes  fortye, 
Those  sightes  all,  they  have  forgotten  clerely, 
And  are  turned  to  shamefuU  ydolatrye. 
For  their  God,  they  have  sett  up  a  golden  calfe. 

Moses  sanctus.  Let  me  saye  sumwhat,  swete  Father, 

in  their  behalfe. 
Pater  ccelestis.  I  wyll  first  conclude,  and  then  saye 
on  thy  mynde. 
For  that  I  have  founde  that  people  so  unkynde. 
Not  one  of  them  shall  enjoye  the  promyse  of  me, 
For  enterynge  the  lande,  but  Caleb  and  Josue. 

Moses  sanctus.  Thy  eternall  wyll  evermore  fulfylled 
be. 
For  dysobeydence  thu  slewest  the  sonnes  of  Aaron, 
The  earthe  swellowed  in  both  Dathan  and  Abiron. 
The  adders  ded  stynge  other  wycked  persones  els. 
In,  wonderfull  nombre.     Thus  hast  thu  ponnyshed  re- 
bels. 
Pater  coelestis.  Never  wyll  I  spare   the  cursed  iny- 
quyte 
Of  ydolatrye,  for  no  cause,  thu  mayst  trust  me. 

Moses  sanctus.  Forgeve  them  yet  Lorde  for  thys  tyme, 

if  it  may  be. 
Pater  coelestis.  Thynkest  thu    that  I   wyll  so   sone 
change  my  decre? 
No,  no,  frynde  Moses;    so  lyght  thu  shalt  not  fynde 

me, 
I  wyll  ponnysh  them  all  Israel  shall  it  se. 

Moses  sanctus.    I  wote,   thy  people   hath   wrought 
abhomynacyon, 


ACT  IV.]  god's  promises.  27 


Worshyppynge  false  goddes,  to  thy  honour's  deroga. 

'cyon, 
Yet  mercyfuUye  thu  mayest  upon  them  loke. 
And  if  thu  wylt  not,  thrust  me  oat  of  thy  boke. 

Pater  coelestis.  Those  great  blasphemers  shall  out  of 
my  boke  cleane, 
But  thu   shalt  not  so,   for   I  knowe   what  thu  doest 

meane. 
Conduct  my  people,  myne  angell  shall  assyst  the, 
That  synne  at  a  day  wyll  not  uncorrected  be. 
And  for  the  true  zele  that  thu  to  ray  people  hast, 
I  adde  thys  covenaunt  unto  my  promyses  past. 

Rayse  them  up  I  wyll  aprophete  fromamonge  them. 
Not  onlyke  to  the,  to  speke  my  wordes  unto  them. 
Whoso  heareth  not  that  he  shall  speake  in  my  name, 
I  wyll  revenge  it  to  hys  perpetual  shame. 
The  passover  lambe  wyll  be  a  token  just, 
Of  thys  stronge  covenaunt.     Thys  have  I  clerely  dys- 
custe, 
In  my  appoyntement   thys  houre  for  your  delyver- 

aunce. 
Moses  muctns.  Never  shall  thys  thynge  depart  from 

my  remembraunce. 
Laude  be  for  ever  to  the  most  mercyfull  lorde 
Whych  never  withdrawest  from    man    thy  heavenlye 

comfort. 
But  from  age  to  age  thy  benefytes  doth  recorde 
What  thy  goodnesse  is,  and  hath  bene  to  hys  sort. 
As  we  fynde  thy  grace,  so  ought  we  to  report. 
And  doubtlesse  it  is  to  us  most  bounteouse. 
Yea,  for  all  our  synnes  most  rype  and  plenteouse. 

Abraham  our  father  founde  the  benyvolouse. 
So  ded  good  Isaac  in  hys  dystresse  amonge. 
To  Jacob  thu  wert  a  gyde  most  gracyouse. 
Joseph  thu  savedest  from  daungerouse  deadlye  wronge. 
Melchisedech    and   Job   felt   thy   great    goodnesse 

stronge, 
So  ded  good  Sara,  Rebecca,  and  fayre  Rachel, 
With  Sephora  my  wyfe,  the  doughter  of  Raguel. 


28  god's  promises.  [act  V, 


To  prayse  the,  swete  lorde,  my  faythe  doth  mecompell, 
For  thy  covenauntes  sake,  wherin  rest  our  salvacyon, 
The  sede  of  pronivse,  all  other  sedes  excell, 
For  therin  reiiiayneth  our  full  justyfycacyon. 
From  Adam  and  Noah,  in  Abraham's  generacyon, 
That  sede  piocureih  God's  my^hty  grace  and  povvTe, 
For  the  same  sede's  sake,  I  vvyll  synge  now  ihys  hcwre. 
Clara  tunc  voce  Aniiphonam  inciplt,  O  Emanuel,  quam 
chorus  {ut  prius)  prosequetur  cum  orgujiis. 
Vel  Anglice  canat  : 
O  hygh  kynge  Emanuel,  and  our  lege  loide !    the 
longe  expectacyon  of  Gentyles,  aud  the  myghtye  saver 
of  their  multytude,  the    healthe  and  consolacyon  of 
synners,  come  now  for  to  save  us,  as  our  Lorde  and 
our  Redeemer. 

Fuilt  Actus  quartus. 


INCIPIT  ACTUS  QUINTUS. 

Pater  coelestis.  For   all    the    faver  I  have   shewed 
Israel, 
Delyverynge  her  from  Pharaoe's  tyrannye, 
And  gevynge  the  land,  fluentem  lac  &  mel, 
Yet  wyli  she  not  leave  her  olde  ydolatrye. 
Nor  know  me  for  God.     I  abhorre  her  myserye. 
Vexed  lier  I  have  with  battayles  and  decayes, 
Styll  must  I  plage  her,  I  se  no  other  wayes. 

David  rex  plus.  Remembre  yet,  lorde,  thy  worthye 
servaunt  Moses, 
Walkynge  in  thy  syght,  without  rebuke  of  the. 
Both  Aaron,  Jetro,  Eieazar,  and  Phinees, 
Evermore  teared  to  ofFende  thy  mageste, 
Moch  thu  accepledest  thy  servant  Josue. 
Caleb  and  Othoniel  sought  the  with  all  their  hart, 
Aiolh  and  Sangar  for  thy  folke  ded  their  part. 

Gedeon  and  Thola  thy  enemyes  put  to  smart, 
Jayr  and  Jephte  gave  pray^es  to  thy  name. 
These,  to  leave  ydoUes,  thy  people  ded  coart. 
Samson  the  strongest,  for  hys  part  ded  the  same. 
Samuel  and  Nathan  thy  messages  ded  proclame. 


ACT  v.]  god's  promises.  29. 


What  though  fearce  Pharao  wrought  myschef  in  thy 

syght: 
He  was  a  pagane,  laye  not  that  in  our  lyght. 

I  wote  the  Benjamytes  abused  the  wayes  of  ryght, 
So  ded  Helye's  sonnes,  and  the  sonnes  of  Samuel. 
Saul  in  hys  ofFyce  was  slouthful  daye  and  night, 
Wycked  was  Semei,  so  was  Achitophel. 
Measure  not  by  them  the  faultes  of  Israel, 
Whom  thu  hast  loved  of  longe  tyme  so  inteyrlye, 
But  of  thy  great  grace  remyt  her  wycked  folye. 

Pater  ccelestis.  1  cannot  abyde  the  vyce  of  ydolatrye, 
Though  I  shuld  suffer  all  other  vyllanye. 
Whan  Josue  was  dead,  that  sort  from  me  ded  fall 
To  the  worshyppynge  of  Asteroth  and  Baal, 
Full  uncleane  ydolles,  and  monsters  bestyall. 

David  rex  plus.  For  it  they  have  had  thy  rlghteouse 
ponnyshment, 
And  for  as  moch  as  they  did  wyckedly  consent 
To  the  Palestynes  and  Chananytes  ungodlye 
Idolaters,  takynge  to  them  in  matrymonye, 
Thu  threwest  them  undre  the  kynge  of  Mesopotamye, 
After  thu  subduedest  them  for  their  idolatrye. 

Eyghtene  years  to  Eglon,  the  kynge  of  Moabytes, 
And  XX  years  to  Jabin,  the  kynge  of  Chananytes, 
Oppressed  they  were  VII  years  of  the  Mydyanytes, 
And  XVIIt  years  vexed  of  the  cruell  Ammonytes. 
In  three  great  battayles,  of  threescore  thousand  and 

fyve, 
Of  thys  thy  people,  not  one  was  left  alyve. 
Have  mercye  now,  lorde, and  call  them  to  repentaunce. 
Pater  ccelestis.  So   longe   as  they  synne,  so  longe 
shall  they  have  grevaunce. 
David  my  servaunt,  sumwhat  must  I  say  to  the; 
For  that  thu  latelye  hast  wrought  soch  vanyte. 

David  rex  pins.  Spare  not,  blessed  lorde,  but  saye 

thy  pleasure  to  me. 
Pater  ccelestis.    Of  late    dayes  thu  hast  mysused 
Bersabe, 
The  wyfe  of  Urye,  and  slayne  bym  in  the  fyelde. 


30  god's  promises.  [act  v. 


David  rex  plus.  Mercye,  lorde,  mercye,  for  doubt- 

lesse  I  am  defyelde. 
Pater  coelestis.   I  constytute  the  a  kynge  over  Israel, 
And  the  preserved  from  Saul,  whych  was  thy  enemye. 
Yea,  in  my  faver,  so  mocli  thu  dedyest  excell, 
That  of  thy  enemyes  I  gave  the  vyctorye. 
Palestynes  and  Syryanes  to  the  came  trybutarye. 
Why  hast  thu  then  wrought  soch  folye  in  my  syght, 
Despysynge  my  worde,  against  all  godlye  ryglit? 
David  rex  pins.  I  have  synned,  lord,  I  beseech  the, 

pardon  me. 
Paler  coelestis.  Thu  shalt  not  dye,  David,  for  thys 
inyquyte, 
For  thy  repentaunce ;  but  thy  sonne  by  Bersabe 
Shall  dye,  for  as  moch  as  my  name  is  blasphemed 
Among  my  enemyes,  and  thu  the  worse  estemed. 
From  thy  howse  for  thys  the  swerde  shall  not  depart. 
David  rex  pius.  I  am  sorye,  lorde,  from  the  bottom 

of  my  hart. 
Pater  coelestis.  To  further  anger  thu  doest  me  yet 

compell. 
David  rex  pius.  For  what  matter,  lorde  ?  I  beseech 

thy  goodnesse  tell. 
Pater  coelestis.  Why  dedest  thu  numbre  the  people 
of  Israel  ? 
Supposest  in  thy  mind,  therein  thu  hast  done  well  ? 
David  rex  jnus.  I  cannot  saye  nave,  but  I  have  done 
undyscretelye. 
To  forget  thy  grace,  for  a  humayne  poljycye. 

Pater  coelestis.  Thu  shalt  of  these  three  chose  whych 
plage  thu  wilt  have, 
For  that  synnefull  acte,  that  I  thy  sowle  maye  save. 
A  scarcenesse  vii.  years,  or  else  iii.  monthes  exyle, 
Eyther  for  iii.  dayes  the  pestylence  most  vyle, 
For  one  thu  must  have,  there  is  no  remedye. 

David  rex  pius.  Lorde,  at  thy  pleasure,  for  thu  art 

full  of  mercye. 
Pater  coelestis.  Of  a  pestylence,  then  iii.  score  thou- 
sand and  ten, 


ACT  v.]  god's  promises.  31 


In  iii.  dayes  shall  dye  of  thy  most  puysant  men. 

David  rex  plus.  O  lorde,  it  is  I  whych  have  offended 
thy  grace, 
Spare  them  and  not  me,  for  I  have  done  the  trespace. 
Pater   coilestis.    Though    thy  synnes  be  great,  thy 
inwarde  harte's  contrycyon 
Doth  move  my  stomake  in  wonderful!  condycion. 
I  fynde  the  a  man  accordynge  to  my  hart. 
Wherefor  thys  promyse  I  make  the,  ere  I  depart. 
A  frute  there  shall  come  forth  yssuynge  from    thy 
bodye, 
Whom  I  wyll  advaunce  upon  thy  seate  for  ever. 
Hys  trone  shall  become  a  seate  of  heavenlye  glorye, 
Hys  worthy  scepture  from  ryght  wyll  not  dyssever, 
Hys  happye  kingedome,  of  fayth  shall  perysh  never. 
Of  heaven  and  of  earthe  he  was  autor  pryncypall, 
And  wyll  contynue,  though  they  do  perysh  all. 
Thys  sygne  shalt  thu  have  for  a  token  specyaU, 
That  thu  mayst  beleve  my  wordes  unfaynedlye, 
Where  thu  hast  mynded,  for  my  memoryall, 
To  buylde  a  temple,  thu  shalt  not  fynysh  it  trulye. 
But  Salomon  thy  sonne  shall  do  that  accyon  worthye, 
In  token  that  Christ  must  fynysh  every  thynge 
That  I  have  begunne,  to  my  prayse  everlastynge. 
David  rex  plus.   Immortall  glorye  to  the,  most  hea- 
venlye kynge. 
For  that  thu  hast  geven  contynuall  vyctorye 
To  me  thy  servaunt,  ever  sens  my  anoyntynge. 
And  also  before,  by  manye  conquestes  worthye. 
A  beare  and  lyon  I  slewe  through  thy  strengh  onlye. 
I  slew  Golias,  which  was  vi.  cubites  longe. 
Agaynst  thy  enemyes  thu  madest  me  ever  stronge. 
My    flcshlye    fraylenesse    made     me    do    deadlye 
wronge, 
And  cleane  to  forget  thy  lawes  of  ryghteousnesse. 
And  though  thu  vysytedst  my  synnefulnesse  amonge, 
With  pestylent  plages,  and  other  unquyetnesse  : 
Yet  never  tokest  thu  from  me  the  plenteousnesse 
Of  thy  godly  sprete,  which  thu  in  me  dedest  plant. 
I  havynge  remorce,  thy  grace  coulde  never  want. 
For  in  conclusyon,  thy  everlastynge  covenaunt 


32  god's  PROMISES.  [act  VI. 


Thu  gavest  unto  me  for  all  my  wycked  synne ; 
And  hast  promysed  here  by  protestacyon  constant, 
That  one  of  my  sede  shall  soch  hygh  fortune  wynne, 
As  never  ded  man  sens  thys  worlde  ded  begynne. 
By  hys  power  he  shall  put  Sathan  from  hys  holde, 
In  rejoyce  whereof  to  synge  wyll  I  be  bolde. 
Canora  voce  tunc  incipit  Antiplionam,  O  Adonai,  quam 
fut  priusj  prosequetur  chorus  cum  organis. 
Vel  sic  Anglice  : 
O  lorde  God  Adonai,  and  gyde  of  the  faylhfullhowse 
of  Israel,  whych  sumtyme   aperedest  in  the  flamyng 
bushe  to  Moses,  and  to    hyni  dedst  geve  a  lawe   in 
mounte    Syna,    come    now   for   to   redeme  us  in  the 
strengthe  of  thy  ryght  hande. 

Finit  Actus  quintus. 


INCIPIT  ACTUS  SEXTUS. 

Pater  ccelestis.  I  brought  up  chyldren  from  their  first 

infancye, 
Whych  now  despyseth  my  godlye  instruccyons. 
An  oxe   knoweth    hys   lorde,    an    asse   hys   master's 

dewtye, 
But  Israel  wyll  not  know  me,  nor  my  condycyons. 
Oh  frowarde  people,  geven  all  to  superstycyons, 
Unnaturall  chyldrea,  expert  in  blasphemyes, 
Provoketh  nie  to  bate,  by  their  ydolatryes. 

Take  hede  to  my  wordes,  ye  tyrauntes  of  Sodoma, 
In  vayne  ye  offer  your  sacryfyce  to  me. 
Dyscontent  I  am  with  yow  beastes  of  Gomorra, 
And  have  no  pleasure  whan  I  your  offerynges  se, 
I  abhorre  your  fastes  and  your  solempnyte. 
For  your  tradycyons  my  waves  ye  set  apart, 
Your  workes  are  in  vayne,  f  hate  them  from  the  hart. 
Esaias  propheta.  Thy  cytie,  swete  lorde,  is  now  be 

come  unfaythfull, 
And  her  condycyons  are  turned  up  so  downe. 
Her  lyfe  is  unchast,  her  actes  be  very  hurtefull. 
Her  murther  and  theft  hath  darkened  her  renowns. 
Covetouse  rewardes  doth  so  their  conscyence  drowne, 


ACT  VI. 1  god's  promises.  33 


That  the  fatherlesse  they  wyll  not  help  to  ryght, 
The  poore  wydowe's  cause  come  not  afore  their  syght. 
Thy  peccable   pathes  seke  they  neyther  daye  nor 
nyght ; 
But  walke  vvycked  wayes  after  their  fantasye. 
Convert  their  hartes,  lorde,  and   geve  them  thy  true 

That  they  maye  perceyve  their  customable  folye  : 
Leave  them  not  helplesse  in  so  depe  myserye, 
But  call  them  from  it  of  thy  most  specyall  grace, 
By  thy  true  prophetes,    to  their  sowle's  helthe   and 
solace. 

Patei-  ccsliisiis.  First  they  had  fathers,  than  had  they 
patryarkes, 
Than  dukes,  than  judges  to  their  gydes  and  monarkes. 
Now  have  they  stowte  kynges,  yet  are  they  wycked  srvll, 
And  wyll  in  no  wyse  my  pleasaunt  lawes  fulfyll. 
Alwayes  they  applye  to  ydolies  worshyppynge, 
From  the  vyie  begger  to  the  anoynted  kynge. 

Esaias  propheia.  For  that    cause    thu    hast    in  two 
devyded  them, 
In  Samaria  the  one,  the  other  in  Hierusalem. 
The  kynge  of  Juda  in  Hierusalem  ded  dwell. 
And  in  Samaria  the  kynge  of  Israel. 
Ten  of  the  twelve  trybes  bycame  Samarytanes, 
And  the  other  two  were  Hiero.^olymytanes. 

In  both  these  cuntreyes,accordynge  to  their doynges, 
Thu  permyttedest  them  to  have  most  cruell  kynges. 
The  first  of  Juda  was  wycked  kynge  Roboam, 
Of  Israel  the  first  w^as  that  cruell  Hieroboam; 
Abia  than  folowed,  and  in  the  other  Nadab, 
Than  Basa,  then  Hela,  then  Z  imbri,  Joram  and  Achab. 

Then  Ochosias,  then  Athaiia,  then  Joas; 
On  the  other  part  was  Jonathan  and  Achas. 
To  rehearce  them  all  that  have  done  wretchydlye 
In  the  syght  of  the,  it  were  longe  verelye. 

Pater  ccelistis:    For  the   wycked   synne  of   fylthye 
ydolatrye, 
Whych  the  ten  trybes  ded  in  the  lande  of  Samarye, 


34  god's  promises.  [act  vi. 


In  space  of  one  daye  fyfty  thousand  men  I  slewe, 

Thre  of  their  cyties  also  I  overthrewe, 

And  left  the  people  in  soche  captyvyte, 

That  in  all  the  worlde  they  wyst  not  whyiher  to  fle. 

The  other  ii.  tvybes,  whan  they  from  me  went  back 
To  ydolatrye,  I  left  in  the  hande  of  Sesack, 
The  kynge  of  Egipt,  whych  toke  awaye  their  treasure, 
Convayed  their  cattel,and  slewe  them  without  measure. 
In  tyme  of  Achas,  an  hondred  thousande  and  twentye 
Were  slayne  at  one  tyme  for  their  ydolatrye. 

Two  hondred  thousande  from  thens  were  captyve 
led, 
Their  goodes  dyspersed,  and  they  with  penurye  fed. 
Seldom  they  fayle  it,  but  eyther  the  Egipcyanes 
Have  them  in  bondage,  or  els  the  Assyreanes. 
And  alone  they  maye  thanke  their  ydolatrye. 

Esaias  propheta.    VVele,   yet  blessed   lorde,   releve 

them  with  thy  mercye. 
Though  they  have  been  yll,  by  other  prynces  dayes. 
Yet  good  Ezechias  hath  taught  them  godlye  wayes. 
Whan  the  prynce  is  good,  the  people  are  the  better ; 
And  as  he  is  nought,  their  vyces  are  the  greatter. 
Heavenlye  lorde,  therfor  send  them  the  consolacyon, 
Whych  thu  hast  covenaunted  with  every  generacyon. 
Open   thu  the  heavens,  and  lete  the  lambe  come 
hither, 
Whych  wyll  delyver  thy  people  all  togyther. 
Ye  planetes  and  cloudes,  cast  downs  your  dewes  and 

rayne, 
That  the  earth  maye  beare  out  helthful  saver  playne. 
Pater  ccelistis.    Maye  the  wyfe  forget  the  chylde  of 

her  owne  bodye  ? 
Esaias  propheta.    Naye,  that  she  can  not  in  anye 

wyse  verelye. 
Pater  ccelistis.  No  more  can  I  them  whych  wyll  do 
my  commandementes. 
But  must  preserve  them  from  all  inconvenyentes. 
Esaias  propheta.  Blessed  art  thu,  lorde,  in  all  thy 
actes  and  judgementes. 


ACT  VI.]  GOD*S  PROMISES.  35 

Pater  ccelistis,  Wele,  Esaias,  for  thys  thy  fydelyte, 
A  covenaunt  of  helthe  thu  shalt  have  also  of  me. 
For  Syon's  sake  now  I  wyll  not  holde  my  peace, 
And  for  Hierusaiem,  to  speake  wyll  I  not  cease, 
Tyll  that  ryghteouse  lorde  become  as  a  sunne  beame 

bryght, 
And  their  just  saver  as  a  lampe  extende  hys  lyght. 
A  rodde  shall  shut  fourth  from  the   olde  stocke  of 
Jesse, 
And  a  bryght  blossome  from  that  rote  wyll  aryse, 
Upon  whom  alwayes  the  sprete  of  the  lorde  shall  be, 
The  sprete  of  wysdome,  the  sprete  of  heavenly  prac- 

tyse. 
And  the  sprete  that  wyll  all  godlynesse  devyse. 
Take  thys  for  a  sygne,  a  mayde  of  Israel 
Shall  conceyve  and  beare  that  Lord  Emanuel. 

Esaias  propheta.  Thy  prayses  condygne   no  mortal 
tunge  can  tell, 
Most  worthye  maker  and  kynge  of  heavenlye  glorye, 
For  all  capacytees  thy  goodnesse  doth  excell. 
Thy  plenteouse  graces  no  brayne  can  cumpas  trulye. 
No  wyt  can  conceyve  the  greatnesse  of  thy  mercye. 
Declared  of  late  in  David  thy  true  servaunt 
And  now  confirmed  in  thys  thy  latter  covenaunt. 
Of  goodnesse  thu  madest  Salomon  of  wyt  most  preg- 
naunt, 
Asa  and  Josaphat,  with  good  kynge  Ezechias, 
In  thy  syght  to  do  that  w^as  to  the  i7ght  pleasaunt. 
To  quench  ydolatrye,  thu  raysedest  up  Helias, 
Jehu,  Heliseus,  Michas,  and  Abdias, 
And  Naaman  Syrus  thu  pourgedst  of  a  leprye. 
The  workes  wonderfull  who  can  but  magnyfye  ? 

Aryse,  Hierusaiem,  and  take  faythe  by  and  bye. 
For  the  verye  lyght  that  shall  save  the  is  commynge. 
The  Sonne  of  the  lord  apere  wyll  evydentlye. 
Whan  he  shall  resort,  se  that  nojoye  be  wantynge. 
He  is  thy  saver,  and  thy  lyfe  everlastynge, 
Thy  release  from  synne,  and  thy  whole  ryghteousnesse. 
Help  me  in  thys  songe  to  knowledge  his  great  good- 
nesse. 


36  god's  promises.  [act  vii. 

Concinna  tunc  voce  Antiphonam  inchoat,  O  radix  Jesse 
quam  chorus  prosequeier  cum  organis. 

Vel  Anglice  hoc  modo  canet : 
O  frutefuU  rote  of  Jesse,  that  shall  be  set  as  a  synge 
amonge  people,  agaynst  the  worldly  rulers  shall  fearce- 
ly  open  their  mouthes.  Whom  the  Gentyles  worshypp 
as  their  heavenlye  lorde,  come  now  for  to  delyver  us. 
and  delaye  the  tyme  no  longar. 

Finit  Actus  sextus. 


ACTUS  SEPTIMUS. 
Pater  coelistis,  I  have  with  fearcenesse  mankynde  oft 
tymes  corrected, 
And  agayne,  I  have  allured  hym  by  swete  promes. 
I  have  sent  sore  plages,  when  he  hath  me  neglected, 
And  then  by  and  by,  most  confortable  swetnes. 
To  Wynne  hym  to  grace,  bothe  mercye  and  ryghteousnes 
I  have  exercysed,  yet  wyll  he  not  amende. 
Shall  I  now  lose  hym,  or  shall  I  hym  defende  ? 

In  hys  most  myschefe,  most  hygh  grace  will  I  sende. 
To  overcome  hym  by  favoure,  if  it  may  be. 
With  hys  abusyons  no  longer  wyll  I  contende 
But  now  uccomplysh  my  first  wyll  and  decre. 
My  worde  beynge  flesh,  from  hens  shall  set  hym  fre. 
Hym  teachynge  a  waye  of  perfyght  ryghteousnesse, 
That  he  shall  not  nede  to  perysh  in  his  weaknesse. 
Johannes  baptista.  Manasses  (lorde)  is  past,  whych 
turned  from  the  hys  harte, 
Achas  and  Amon  have  now  no  more  ado, 
Jechonias  with  other,  whych  ded  themselves  avarte 
Fro  the  to  ydolles,  may  now  no  farther  go. 
The  two  false  judges,  and  Bel's  wycked  prestes  also, 
Phassur  and  Semeias,  wiih  Nabucliodonosore, 
Antiochus  and  Triphon,  shall  the  dyplease  no  more. 

Thre  score  yeares  and  ten,  thy  people  into  Babylon 
Were  captyve  and  thrall  for  ydolles  worshyppynge. 
Hierusalem  was  lost,  and  left  voyde  of  domynyon, 
Brent  was  their  temple,  so  was  their  other  buyldynge, 


ACT  VII.]  god's  promises.  37 

Ther  hygh  prestes  were  slayne,  ther  treasure  came  to 

nothyng. 
The  strength  and  bewtye  of  thyne  owne  heretage. 
Thus  dedest  thu  leave  then  in  myserable  bondage. 

Oft  had  they  warnynges,  suratyrae  by  Ezechiel, 
And  other  prophetes,  as  Esaye  and  Hieremye, 
Sumtyme  by  Daniel,  sumtyrae  by  Ose  and  Johel, 
By  Amos  and  Abdias,  by  Jonas  and  by  Sophonye, 
By,Nahum  and  Micheas,  by  Agge  and  by  Zacharye, 
By  Malachias,  and  also  by  Abacuch, 
By  Olda  the  wydowe,  and  by  the  prophete  Baruch. 

Remembre  Josias,  whych  toke  the  abhomynacyon 
From  the  people,  then  restorynge  thy  lawes  agayne. 
Of  Rechab  consydre  the  faythfull  generacyon. 
Whom  to  wyne-drynkynge  no  fryndshyppe  myghtcon- 

strayne. 
Remembre  Abdemelech,  the  frynde  of  truthe  certayne, 
Zorobabel  the  prynce,  whych  ded  repare  the  temple, 
And  Jesus  Josedech,  of  vertu  the  exemple. 

Consydre  Nehcmias,  and  Esdras  the  good  scrybe, 
MercyfuU  Tobias,  and  constaunt  Mardocheus. 
Judith  and  quene  Hester,  of  the  same  godly  trybe, 
Devoute  Mathias,  and  Judas  Machabeus. 
Have  mynde  of  Eleazar,  and  then  Joannes  Hircanus, 
Waye  the  ernest  fay  the  of  thys  god  lye  companye, 
Though  the  other  cleane  fall  from  thy  memorye. 

Pater  coelestis.  I  wyll  Johan,  I  wyll,  for  as  T  sayd 
afore, 
Rygour  and  hardenesse  I  have  now  set  apart, 
Myndynge  from  hens  fourth  to  wynne  man  evermore 
By  wonderfull  kyndenesse  to  breake  hys  stubberne  hart, 
And   change  it  from  synne.     For  Christ  shall  sufFre 

smart, 
In  mannys  frayle  nature  for  hys  inyquyte, 
Thys  to  make  open,  my  massenger  shalt  thu  be. 

Johannes  baptista.    As  thy  pleasure  is,  so  blessed 
lorde  appoynt  me, 
For  my  helthe  thu  art,  and  my  sowle's  felycyte. 

Pater  ccelestis.  Longe  ere  I  made  the,  I  the  predes- 
tynate, 


38  god's  promises.  [act  vii. 


Before  thu  wert  borne  I  the  endued  with  grace. 

In  thy  mother's  wombe  wert  thu  sanctyfycate 

By  my  godlye  gyft,  and  so  confirmed  in  place, 

A  Prophete,  to  shewe  a  waye  before  the  face 

Of  my  most  dere  sonne,  whych  wyll  come :  the  untyil 

Applye  the  apace  thyne  ofFyce  to  fulfyll. 

Preache  to  the  people,  rebukynge  their  neglygence, 
Doppe  them  in  water,  they  knowledgynge  their  offence ; 
And  saye  unto  them,  The  kyngedome  of  God  doth  cum. 
Joannes  baptista.  Unmete,  lorde,   I  am,    Quia  puer 
ego  sum. 
An  other  than  that,  alac,  I  have  no  scyence 
Fyt  foi  that  offyce,  neyther  yet  cleane  eloquence. 
Pater  calcsiis.  Thu   shalt  not  saye   so,  for  I  have 
geven  the  grace, 
Eloquence  and  age,  to  speake  in  the  desart  place. 
Thu  must  do  therefor  as  I  shall  the  advyse. 
My  appoynted  pleasure  fourth  utter  in  any  wyse 
My  stronge  myghtye  wordes  put  I  into  thy  mouthe. 
Spare  not,  but  speake  them  to  east,  west,  north  and 
southe. 
Hie  extendens  Dominns  majium,  labia  Joannis  digito 

tanget,  ac  ori  imponet  aureavi  linguam. 
Go  now  thy  waye  fourth,  I  shall  the  never  fayle, 
The  sprete  of  Hellas  have  I  geven  the  alredye. 
Persuade  the  people,  that  they  their  synnes  bywayle. 
And  if  they  repent  their  customable  folye, 
Longe  shall  it  not  be  ere  they  have  remedye. 
Open  thu  their  hartes,  tell  them  their  helth  is  commynge 
As  a  voyce  in  desart,  se  thu  declare  the  thynge, 

I  promyse  the  sure,  thou  shalt  washe  hym  amonge 
them 
In  Jordane,  a  floude  not  farre  from  Hierusalem. 

Johannes  baptisia,  Shewe  me  yet,  good  lorde,  whereby 
shall  I  knowe  that  man, 
In  the  multytude  whych  wyll  resort  to  Jordan. 

Pater   coilestis.    In   thy   mother's   wombe   of  hym 

haddest  thu  cognycyon. 
Johannes  baptista.  Yea,  that  was  in  sprete.     I  wolde 
now  knowe  hys  person. 


ACT  VII.]  god's  tromises.  39 


Patei-  ccelestis.  Have  thii  no  feare,  Johan,  hym  shalt 
thu  knowe  full  well, 
And  one  specyall  token  afore  wyll  I  the  tell. 
Super  quern  videris  spiritum  descendenitm  ^  manentem 
Super  eum,  hie  est  qui  baptizal  spiritu  sancto, 

Amonge  all  other  whom  thu  shalt  baptyse  there, 
Upon  whom  thu  seyst  the  Holy  Ghost  descende 
In  shappe  of  a  dove,  restynge  upon  hys  shuldere, 
Holde  hym  for  the  same,  that  shall  the  worlde  amende 
By  baptym  of  sprete,  and  also  to  man  extende 
Most  specyall  grace.     For  he  must  repare  hys  fall, 
Restorynge  agayne  the  justyce  orygyuall. 

Take  now  thy  journaye,  and  do  as  1  the  advyse. 
First  preache  repentaunce,  and  than  the  people  baptyse. 

Johannes    baptista.    Hygh  honour,    worshypp,   and 
glorye  be  unto  the, 
My  God  eternall,  and  patrone  of  all  puryte. 

Repent,  good  people,  for  synnes  that  now  are  past, 
The  kyngdome  of  heaven  is  at  hande  very  nye. 
The  promysed  lyght  to  yow  approcheth  fast. 
Have  faythe,  and  applye  now  to  recyve  him  boldelye. 
I  am  not  the  lyght,  but  to  beare  testymonye 
Of  hym  am  seilt,  that  all  men  maye  beleve. 
That  hys  blonde  he  wyll  for  their  redemptyon  geve. 

He  is  soch  a  lyght  as  all  men  doth  illumyne. 
That  ever  were  here,  or  shall  be  after  thys% 
All  the  worlde  he  made  by  hys  myghtye  power  devyne, 
And  yet  that  rude  worlde  wyll  not  knowe  what  he  is. 
Hys  owne  he  enterynge,  is  not  regarded  of  hys. 
They  thatreceyve  hym,  are  God's  true  chyldren  playne, 
In  sprete  regenerate,  and  all  grace  shall  attayne. 

Manye  do  recken,  that  I  Johan  Baptyst  am  he, 
Deceyved  are  they,  and  that  wyll  apere  in  space. 
Though  he  come  after,  yet  he  was  longe  afore  me. 
We  are  weake  vessels,  he  is  the  welle  of  grace, 
Of  hys  great  goodnesse  all  that  we  have  we  purchace. 
By  hym  are  we  like  to  have  a  better  increes 
Than  ever  we  had  by  the  lawe  of  Moses. 

In  Moses'  harde  lawe  we  had  not  els  but  darkenes, 
Fygure  and  shaddowe.     All  was  not  els  but  nyght, 


40  god's  promises.  [act  VII. 


Ponnyshment   for  synne,   much    rygour,   payne   and 

roughnes. 
An  hygh  change  is  there,  where  all  is  turned  to  lyght, 
Grace  and  remyssyon  anon  wyll  shyne  full  bryhgt. 
Never  man  lyved  that  ever  se  God  afore, 
Whych  now  in  our  kynde  niannys  ruyne  wyll  restore. 
Helpe  me  to  geve  thankes  to  that  lorde  evermore, 
Whych  am  unto  Christ  a  cryar's  voyce  in  the  desart, 
To  prepare  the  pathes  and  hygh  wayes  hym  before, 
For  hys  delyght  is  on  the  poore  symple  hart. 
That  innocent  lambe  from  soch  wyll  never  depart, 
As  wyll  faylhfullve  receyve  hym  with  good  mynde. 
Lete  our  voyce  then  sounde  in  some  swete  musycall 
kynde, 

JResona  tunc  voce  Antiphoiiam  incipit,  O  clavis  David, 
quam  prosequetur  chorus  cum  organise  ut  prius. 

Vel  in  Anglico  sermone  sic  : 

O  perfyght  keye  of  David,  and  hygh  scepture  of  the 
kyndred  of  Jacob,  whych  openest  and  no  man  speareth*, 
thu  speakest  and  no  man  openeth ;  come  and  delyver 
thy  servaunt  mankyude,  bound  in  prison,  syttingin  the 
darknesse  of  synne  and  bytter  dampnacyon. 

*  i.  e.  asketh,  enquireth. 

So  Chaucer's  Testament  of  Creseide. 

"  Who  had  been  there,  and  liking  for  to  here, 

"  His  faconde  tonge  and  tennis  exquisite, 
"  Of  rethorike  and  practike  he  might  lere. 

"  In  brefe  sermon  a  preignant  sentence  write  5 
"  Before  Cupide  valing  his  cappe  a  lite 
"  Spei-h  the  cause  of  that  vocacion, 
*'  And  he  anon  shewde  his  entencion." 
Again,  Douglas's  Virgil,  B.  iii.  p.  72. 

"  The  seik  ground  deny  is  frute  and  fudis, 
"  My  fader  exhortis  us  turn  againe  our  studis 
"  To  Delos,  and  Apoliois  ansuere  spere, 
"  Be  seiking  him  of  succours  us  to  lere  ;" 
Again,  B.  v.  p.  140. 

"  Ane  uthir  mache  to  him  was  socht  and  sperit." 


ACT  VII.  GOD*S  PROMISES,  41 


Baleus  Prlocutor. 

The  matters  are  soch  that  we  have  uttered  here 
As  ought  not  to  slyde  from  your  memoryall. 
For  they  have  opened  soch  confortable  gere, 
As  is  to  the  helthe  of  this  kynde  universall, 
Graces  of  the  londe  and  promyses  lyberall, 
Whych  he  hath  geven  to  man  for  every  age, 
To  knytt  hym  to  Christ,  and  so  clere  hym  of  bondage. 
As    saynt   Paule    doth   write   unto    the    Corinthes 
playne. 
Our  fore  fathers  were  undre  the  cloud  of  darkenes, 
And    unto    Christe's    dayes   ded    in    the    shaddowe 

remayne  : 
Yet  were  they  not  left,  for  of  hym  they  had  promes, 
All  they  receyved  one  spirytuall  fedynge  doubtles. 
They   dronke   of    the    rocke    whych    them    to    lyfe 

refreshed, 
For  one  savynge  helthe,  in  Christ,  all  they  confessed. 

In  the  woman's  sede  was  Adam  first  justyfyed, 
So  was  faythfull  Noah  ;  so  was  just  Abraham, 
The  faythe  in  that  sede  in  Moses  fourth  multyplyed, 
Lykewyse  in  David  and  Esaye,  ihat  after  cam. 
And  in  Johan  Baptyst,  whych  shewed  the  very  lara. 
Though  they  se  afarre,  yet  all  they  had  one  justyce, 
One  Masse  (as  they  call  it)  and   in  Christ  one  sacry- 
fyce. 
A  man  can  not  here  to  God  do  better  servyce, 
Than  on  thys  to  grounde  hys  faythe  and  understand- 

ynge. 
For  all   the  worlde's  synne  alone  Christ   payed   the 

pryce. 
In  hys  onlye  deathe  was  mannys  lyfe  alwayes  restynge, 
And  not  in  wyll  workes,  nor  yet  in  mennys  deservynge, 
The  lyght  of  our  faythe  make  thys  thynge  evydent, 
And  not  the  practyse  of  other  experiment. 

Where  is  now  fre  wyll,  whom  the  hypocrytes  com- 
ment ? 
Whereby  they  report  they  maye  at  their  owne  pleasure 


42  god's  promises.  act  vii. 


Do  good  of  themselves,  though  grace  and  fayth  be 

absent, 
And    have    good    intentes    their    madnesse   with   to 

measure. 
The  wyll  of  the  fleshe  is  proved  here  small  treasure, 
And  so  is  mannys  will,  for  the  grace  of  God  doth  all. 
More  of  thys  matter  conclude  hereafter  we  shall. 

Thus  endeth  thys  Tragedy  or  enterlude,  manyfest- 
ynge  the  chefe  promyses  of  God  unto  Man  by  all  ages 
in  the  olde  lawe,  from  the  fall  of  Adam,  to  the  incar- 
nacyon  of  the  lorde  Jesus  Christ.  Compyled  by 
Johan  Bayle,  Anno  Domini  1538. 


EDITION. 


A  Tragedy  or  enterlude  manyfestyng  the  chefe  pro> 
myses  of  God  unto  man  by  all  ages  in  the  olde  lawe, 
from  the  fall  of  Adam  to  the  incarnacyon  of  the  lorde 
Jesus  Christ.  Compyled  by  Johan  Bale,  Anno 
Domini  mdxxxviii.  In  the  worde  (which  is  now 
called  the  eternall  sonne  of  God)  was  lyfe  from  the 
begynnynge,  and  that  life  was  the  lyght  of  men.  Thys 
lyght  yet  shyneth  in  the  darknesse,  but  the  darknesse 
comprehendeth  it  not, — Joan  i*. 

*  The  greater  part  of  this  quotatiou  is  torn  off  in  the  only  copy 
known  with  certainty  to  exist,  as  well  as  the  date  and  printer's 
name,  if  any  were  ever  appended.    C. 


THE  FOUR  Ps. 


John  Heywood,  or  Heewood,  one  of  the  most  ancient 
dramatic  writers  in  the  English  language,  was  born  in 
the  city  of  London*,  and  educated  in  the  University 
of  Oxford,  at  the  ancient  Hostle  called  Broadgate's, 
in  St.  Aldgate's  parish.  He  was  in  his  time  more 
celebrated  for  his  wit  than  his  learning,  and  having 
some  fair  possessions  at  North  Mims,  he  resided  there 
after  he  left  Oxford,  and  became  intimately  acquainted 
with  Sir  Thomas  More,  who  lived  in  the  neighbour- 
hoodf.  Here  the  latter  wrote  his  celebrated  work 
called  Utopia,  and  is  supposed  to  have  assisted 
Heywood  I    in    the    composition    of    his    Epigrams  §. 

*  Wood,  in  his  Atlienas  Oxonienses,  vol.  1.  p.  149,  positively  fixes 
his  birth  at  this  place.  Other  writers  have  made  him  a  native  of 
North  Mims  in  Hertfordshire,  but  apparently  witho  t  any  autho- 
rity. Bale,  who  lived  nearest  to  the  author's  time,  calls  him 
Civis  Londinensis ;  which  words,  though  they  do  not  absolutely 
prove  that  he  Avas  born  in  London,  yet  surely  are  sufficient  in  a 
matter  of  this  uncertainty  to  warrant  any  one  to  conclude  that  he 
was  a  native  of  that  city,  as  no  circumstance  appears  to  induce  a 
belief  that  he  acquired  the  title  of  Citizen  of  London  otherwise 
than  by  birth. 

t  Peacham's  Compleat  English  Gentleman,  4to.  1627,  p.  95. 

X  Gabriel  Harvey's  MS.  Note  to  Speyght's  Chaucer,  as  quoted 
in  Mr.  Steevens's  Shakspeare,  vol.  5. 

§  T.  Bastard,  in  his  C/ireito/eros,  seven  bookes  of  Epigrams,  1598, 
has  the  following,  addressed  Ad  Johunnem  Davis,  in  which  he 
speaks  of  Heywood  and  his  reputation  in  this  department  ; 

*'  If  witt  may  make  a  poet,  as  I  gesse, 

Heywood  with  auncient  poets  may  compare. 
But  thou,  in  word  and  deed,  hast  made  him  lesse 

In  his  own  witt,  having  yet  learning  spare. 
The  goate  doth  hunt  the  grasse,  the  wolfe  the  goat; 

The  lyon  hunts  the  wolfe  by  proof  we  see  ; 
Heywood  sang  others  downe,  but  thy  sweete  note, 

Davis,  hath  sang  him  downe,  and  1  would  thee. 
Then  be  not  raov'd,  nor  count  it  such  a  sinn. 

To  will  in  thee  what  thou  hast  done  in  him." 


46 

Through  Sir  Thomas  More's  means,  it  is  probable  our 
author  was  introduced  to  the  knowledge  of  King 
Henry  the  Eighth,  and  of  his  daughter  the  Princess, 
afterwards  Queen  Mary;  by  the  former  of  whom,  he 
was  held  in  much  esteem  for  the  mirth  and  quickness 
of  his  conceits ;  and  so  much*  valued  by  the  latter, 
that  he  was  often,  after  she  came  to  the  throne, 
admitted  to  the  honour  of  waiting  upon  and  exercising 
his  fancy  before  her,  even  to  the  time  she  lay  lan- 
guishing on  her  death  bed.  His  education  having 
been  in  the  Roman  Catholic  faith,  he  continued 
steadily  attached  to  the  tenets  of  that  religion ;  and 
during  the  reign  f  of  Edward  the  Sixth,  fell  under  the 
suspicion  of  practising  against  the  government,  and 
narrowly  escaped  the  halter.  After  the  death  of  his 
patroness  the  queen,  he  left  the  nation,  says  Wood  t, 
for  religion's  sake,  and  settled  at  Mechlin  in  Brabant, 
where  he  died  about  the  year  1^65^,  leaving  several 

The  subsequent  Ad  Lector  em  is  to  the  same  effect  ; 
"  Reader,  if  Heywood  lived  now  againe, 
Whom  time  of  life,  hath  not  of  praise  bereaved  ; 
If  he  would  write,  I  could  express  his  vaine  : 
This  would  he  write,  or  else  I  am  deceived." 

Sir  J.  Harrington  quotes  one  of  He}  wood's  Epigrams  in  the 
Notes  to  B.  88  of  his  Translation  of  Orlando  Furioso;  and  Thomas 
Wilson,  in  his  Rhetorique,  1553,  speaks  of  Hey  wood's  Proverbs, 
adding,  that  his  "  paynes  in  that  behalfe  are  worthye  of  immortalj 
"  prayse."  In  Barnaby  Googe's  Husbandry,  "  our  English  Martial], 
"  John  Heywood,"  is  quoted  regarding  Essex  cheese.  It  would 
not  be  difficult  to  add  several  other  authors  who  quote  or  applaud 
him.     C. 

*  Athen.  Oxen.  vol.  1.  p.  149. 

t  "  But  to  step  backe  to  my  teske  (though  everie  place  I  step 
"  to,  yeeldes  me  sweeter  discourse)  what  thinke  you  by  Haywood 
"  that  scaped  hanging  with  his  mirth  ;  the  King  being  graciously 
"  and  (as  I  thinke)  truly  perswaded,  that  a  man  that  wrate  so 
"  pleasant  and  harmelesse  verses,  could  not  have  any  harmful!  con- 
"  ceit  against  bis  proceedings,  and  so  by  the  honest  motiim  of  a 
"  gentleman  of  his  chamber  saved  him  from  the  jerke  of  the  six- 
"  string'd  whip." 

Harington's  Metamorphoses  of  Ajax,  1596,  p.  25. 

t  Athen.  Oxon.  vol.  1.  p.  149. 

§  The  subsequent  anecdote  is  given  by  Puttenham,  in  his  Ane  of 
English  Poesk,  1589,  p.  230. 


47 

children;  one  of  whom,  Jasper  Heywood,  translated 
three  of  Seneca's  Plays,  and  wrote  several  Poems," 
printed  in  the  Paradise  of  Dainty  Devises,  4to.  1578. 
This  Jasper  Heywood  was,  according  to  Fuller,  exe- 
cuted in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth;  but  more  pro- 
bably, as  Sir  Richard  Baker  asserts,  was  among  those 
who  were  taken  in  1585,  and  sent  out  of  England  *. 
John  Heywood  f  appears  to  be  the  second  English 

"  The  like  hapned  on  a  time  at  the  Duke  of  Northumberland's 
"  bourd,  where  merry  John  Heywood  was  allowed  to  sit  at  the 
"  table's  end.  The  Duke  had  a  very  honourable  and  noble  mynd 
"  alwayes  to  pay  his  debts  well,  and  when  he  lacked  money  would 
"  not  stick  to  sell  the  greatest  part  of  his  plate  :  so  had  he  done  a 
"  few  days  before.  Heywood  being  lotli  to  call  for  his  drinke  so 
"  oft  as  he  was  dry,  turned  his  eye  toward  the  cupboard  and  said, 
"  *  I  finde  great  misse  of  your  Grace's  standing  cups.'  The  Duke 
"  thinking  he  had  spoken  it  of  some  knowledge  that  his  plate 
"  was  lately  sold,  said  somewhat  sharply,  *  Why,  sir,  will  not 
"  *  those  cuppes  serve  as  good  a  man  as  yourself!'  Heywood 
"  readily  replied, '  Yes,  if  it  please  your  Grace  ;  but  I  would  have 
"  '  one  of  them  stand  still  at  mine  elbow,  full  of  drinke,  that  I  might 
"  '  not  be  driven  to  trouble  your  men  so  often  to  call  for  it.'  This 
"  pleasant  and  speedy  revers  of  the  former  wordes,  holpe  all  the 
"  matter  againe,  whereupon  the  Duke  became  very  pleasaunt,  and 
"  dranke  a  bolle  of  wine  to  Heywood,  and  bid  a  cup  should  be 
"  alwayes  standing  by  him." 

This  story,  in  itself  of  very  little  worth,  serves  to  shew  the  sort 
of  terms  Heywood  was  upon  with  the  nobility  of  his  time.     C. 

•-The  editor  of  the  last  edition  of  the  Biographical  Dictionary 
asserts,  but  without  citing  his  particular  authority  for  the  fact, 
that  "  after  many  peregrinations,  he  died  at  Naples,  January  the 
9th,  1598."    C. 

t  Dr.  Palsgrave,  whose  Play  of  Acolastiis  was  printed  in  the  year 
1529,  seems  to  have  been  the  first.     See  Ames,  166. 

Here  is  a  mistake,  which  has  likewise  been  fallen  into  in  a  note 
on  Cymbeline,  edit.  1778,  vol.  9,  p.  317.  Acolastus  was  not  printed 
so  early  as  1529.  The  original  Latin  was,  I  think,  produced  in 
that  year.  Not  having  the  play  by  me,  I  cannot  exactly  account 
for  the  misinformation  given  in  that  note  ;  hut,  if  my  memory  is  to 
be  trusted,  the  original  Latin  is  in  verse,  the  translation  in  prose  ; 
and  the  title  runs  thus :  Comedia  Acolastus  dicta,  cum  ecphrasi 
Anglica,  per  Johannem  PaUgravium.  Lond.  per  Thomam  Bertheletum, 
4to.  1540.     S. 

Ames,  whose  authority  is  quoted  to  prove  the  existence  of  the 
early  edition  of  Acolastus,  mentions  both  that  and  the  later  one,  as 
though  he  had  seen  each.  How  far  his  accuracy  is  to  be  relied  on, 
must  be  left  to  the  reader's  judgment. 


48 


dramatic  writer.  Oldys*  says,  he  began  to  write 
about  the  year  1530,  but  that  he  could  not  find  he 
pubhshed  any  thing  so  early. 

The  following  is  a  List  of  his  Works  : 

"  A  Play  betwene  Johan  the  Husband,  Tyb  the 
**  Wife,  and  Sir  Johan  the  Priest,  by  John  Heywood, 
"  4to.  Tmprvnted  at  London,  by  Willliam  Rastall, 
«  the  12th  Day  of  February,  1533."  (Oldys's  MS. 
Notes,  and  Companion  to  the  Play-house). 

"  A  Mery  Play  betwene  the  Pardoner  and  the 
^^  Frere,  the  Curate,  and  neybour  Pratte,  4to.  Im- 
''  prynted  by  Will"-  Rastell,  5th  of  April,  1533." 
Ames,  182.  (Oldys's  MS.  Notes,  and  Companion 
to  the  Playhouse). 

"  The  Playe  called  the  Foure  P.P.  A  newe  and  a 
"  very  mery  Enterlude  of  A  Palmer,  A  Pardoner,  A. 
"  Potycary,  A  Pedler.  Made  by  John  Heewood,  4to. 
"  Imprynted  at  London  in  fletestreete,  at  the  Sign  of 
*'  the  George,  by  Wyllyam  Myddylton.  4to.  no  date." 
Also, 

"  A  Play  of  Genteelness  and  Nobilitie.  An  Inter- 
"  lude  in  two  Parts,  4to.  no  date."  (Companion  to  the 
Playhouse). 

"  A  Play  of  Love.  An  Interlude,  4to.  1533."  (Com- 
panion to  the  Playhouse). 

**  A  Play  of  tiie  Weather,  called  A  new  and  a  very 
"  merry  Interlude  of  all  manner  of  Weathers,  1553," 
fo.  (Companion  to  the  Playhouse.  Oldys's  Ms.). 
Also  in  12mo,  printed  by  Robert  Wyer,  no  date. 
(Ames,  157) 

"  The  Spider  and  the  Flie,  a  Parable  made  by  John 
<'  Heywoodf.  Imprinted  by  Tho.  Powell,  1556,"  B.  L. 
4to. 

*  MS.  Notes  on  Langbaine. 

t  This  parable,  apologue  or  allegory,  (for  it  is  one  a;nd  all  three) 
is  not  perhaps  so  "  dull,  tedious,  anri  trifling,"  as  Warton  contends  ; 
and  if  it  be  without  much  "  fancj,"it  has  both  meaning  and  moral. 
In  "  the  conclusion,"  Heywood  informs  us  that  he  began  the  work 
twenty  years  before  it  was  finished,  and  that  he  did  nothing  to  it 
during  an  interval  of  nineteen  years.  He  adds,  that  it  was  com- 
menced "  with  the  first,  and  ended  with  the  last,"  of  his  "  poor 


49 

**  John  Heywood's  Woorkes.  A  Dialogue  conteyn- 
"  ing  the  Number  of  the  effectual  Proverbes  in  the 
"  EngHsh  Tongue,  compacte  in  a  matter  concerning 
"  two  Maner  of  Mariages  :  with  one  Hundreth  of  Epi- 
"  grammes;  and  three  Hundreth  of  Epigrammes  up- 
*'  pon  three  Hundred  Proverbes,  and  a  fifth  hundred  of 
"  Epigrammes.  Whereunto  are  newly  added,  a  sixte 
*'  hundred  of  Epigrammes,  by  the  said  John  Heywoode. 
"  Imprinted  by  tho.  Marshe,  1576,"*  4to.  B.  L, 

Another  E  lition  was  printed  by  Felix  Kyngston,  in 
4to.  B.  L.  1598. 

*'  A  Brefe  Balet,  touching  the  trayterous  takynge  of 
"  Scarborow  Castle.  Imprinted  at  London  by  Thomas 
*'  Powel."  On  a  broad  side  of  two  columns,  B.  L. 
(Among  the  folio  volumes  of  Dyson's  Collections,  in 
the  Library  of  the  Society  of  Antiquarians).  Tho. 
Stafford,  who  took  that  Castle  23  April,  1557,  and 
proclaimed  himself  Protector  of  the  realm,  was  be- 
headed 28  May  follov/ing,  and  three  of  his  accomplices 
were  hanged.     Oldys's  Ms. 

"  A  Balade  of  the  meeting  and  marriage  of  the  King 
"  and  Queenes  Highness.  Imprinted  by  W.  Ryddel." 
One  side  of  a  large  half  sheet.     Oldys.f 

Winstanly  I  hath  expressed  a  doubt,  whether  the 
author  of  the  epigrams  and  of  the  plays  were  not  differ- 
ent persons.  The  following  epigram  will  be  sufficient 
to  set  that  fact  beyond  contradiction,  and  at  the  same 
time  exhibit  a  specimen  of  the  author's  manner  : — 

works.  The  maid  who  sweeps  down  the  spider,  he  explains  to 
mean  Queen  Mary,  in"  sense  allegoricall,"  whom  he  calls  "  a  mer- 
ciful maiden  ;"  perhaps  in  "  sense  allegorical"  also.     C. 

*  Thos.  Wilson,  in  his  Rhetorique,  published  in  1553,  speaks 
of  Heywood's  Proverbs  as  then  in  print.  They  were  also  repub- 
lished in  1561 ;  and  the  title-page  professes  that  the  work  has 
been  "  newly  oversene,  and  somewhat  augmented,  by  the  sayde 
John  Heywood."  The  only  copy  1  have  met  with  is  imperfect  at 
the  end,  and  the  title-page  does  not  state  who  was  the  printer  of 
it.  "  John  Hey  woodes  Woorkes"  were  printed  collectively  by  Henry 
Wykes  in  1566  :  they  consist  of  Proverbs  and  Epigrams. 

t  In  vol.  I.  of  the  late  edition  of  the  Royal  and  Noble  Authors,  by 
M.  Park,  a  poem  in  praise  of  Queen  Mary  is  printed,  copied  from  a 
MS.  in  the  British  Museum.     C. 

*  Lives  of  English  Poets,  p.  45. 

VOL.j.  E 


50 

Art  thou  Hey  wood  J  with  thy  mad  merry  wit? 

Yea,  forsooth,  master,  that  name  is  even  hit. 
Art  thou  Heywoodf  that  appHest  mirth  more  than  thrift  ? 

Yes,  sir,  I  take  merry  mirth  a  golden  gift. 
Art  thou  Heywood,  that  hast  made  many  mad  pU\ys  ? 

Yea,  many  plays,  few  good  works  in  my  days. 
Art  thou  Heywood,  that  hath  made  men  merry  long  ? 

Yea,  and  will,  if  I  be  made  merry  among. 
Art  thou  Heywood,  that  wouldst  be  made  merry  now? 

Yes,  sir,  help  me  to  it  now,  I  beseech  you. 

Winstanly  and  Philips  ascribe  to  him,  I  think, 
falsely,  the  JPinner  of  Wakefield*  and  Philotus,  printed 
at  Edinburgh,  1603. 

Dr.  Fullerf  mentions  a  book  written  by  our  author, 
intitled,  Monumenta  literaria ;  which  are  said  to  be 
Non  turn  lahore  conditu,  quatn  lepore  condita. 

*  Vol.  111.  t  Worthies,  p.  221. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS. 

A  Palmer, 
A  Pardoner, 

A  POTICARY, 

A  Pedler. 


THE    FOUR    P's*. 


^  Palmer.  Now  God  be  here  ;  who  kepetb  this  place  ? 

Now  by  my  faylh,  I  crye  you  mercy; 

Of  reason  I  must,  sew  for  grace, 

My  revvdnes  sheweth  mef  so  homely. 

Wherof  your  pardon  axt  and  wonne, 

I  sew  you 2,  as  curtesy  doth  me  bynde, 

To  tell  this  whiche  shalbe  begonne. 

In  order  as  may  come  beste  in  mynde. 

I  am  a  Palmer,  as  ye^  se, 

Whiche  of  my  lyfe  muche  part  have*  spent 

In  many  a  fayre  and  farre^  cuntrie, 

*  Although  more  pains  than  usual  were  bestowed  on  the  colla- 
tion of  this  piece,  yet,  as  it  was  printed  originally  by  Dodsley 
from  the  most  corrupt  of  the  old  copies,  many  of  the  errors  and 
a  few  interpolations  were  allowed  by  the  subsequent  editor  to  re- 
main. The  orthography  also,  professed  to  be  observed,  was  very 
frequently  abandoned.  C. 

1  Palmer'}  "  The  difference  between  a  pilgrim  and  a  palmer  was 
"  thus  ;  The  pilgrim  had  some  home  or  dwelling  place  ;  but  the 
"  palmer  had  none.  The  pilgrim  travelled  to  some  certain  de- 
"  signed  place  or  places  ;  but  the  palmer  to  all.  The  pilgrim  went 
"  at  his  own  charges  ;  but  the  i)almer  professed  wilful  poverty,  and 
"  went  upon  alms.  The  pilgrim  might  give  over  his  profession, 
"  and  return  home  ;  but  the  palmer  must  be  constant  till  he  had 
"  obtained  the  palm,  that  is,  victory  over  all  spiritual  enemies, 
"  and  life  by  death,  and  thence  his  name  Palmer,  or  else  from  a 
♦'  staft",  or  boughs  of  palm,  which  he  always  carried  along  him." 
Staveley's  Raman  Horseleech,  1769,  p.  93. 

t  'I'he  first  edition  gives  this  line, 

"  JMy  rewdnes  sheweth  me  no  so  homely, 
and  that  of  1569  has  it. 

"  My  rudenes  sheweth  me  not  so  homely." 
The  negative  certainly  seems  to  have  been  inserted  by  mistake. 
C. 

2  sew  you]  sue  now,  edition  1569.  *  ye]  you,  edit.  1569. 

4  have]  hath,  1st  edit.  ^  fayre  andfarre]  far  and  faire, 

edit.  1569. 


54  THE  FOUR  P  S. 


As  pilgryms  do  of  good  intent. 

At  Hierusalem^  have  I  bene 

Before  Chryste's  blessed  sepulture : 

The  mount' of  Calvery  have  I  sene^ 

A  holy  place  ye  may  be  sure. 

To  Josaphat  and  Olyvete** 

On  fote,  god  wote,  I  vvente  ryght  bare  : 

Many  a  salts  tere  dyd  I  swete, 

6  Hierusulem'],    Jerusalem,  edit,   15C9.  "^  have  I]  I  have, 

edit.  1569. 

^  3o  Josaphat  and  Olyvete,']  Maundevile  thus  mentions  these 
places.  "  And  towards  the  Est  syde,  withoute  the  walles  of  the 
"  cytee  (i.  e.  Jerusalem)  is  the  vale  of  Josaphathe,  that  touchethe 
"  to  the  walles,  as  thoughe  it  were  a  large  dyche.  And  anen  that 
"  vale  of  Josaphathe  out  of  the  cytee,  is  the  chirche  of  Seynt 
"  Stevene,  where  he  was  stoned  to  dethe."  Voiage  and  Travaile,  8vo. 
1725,  p.  96.  "  And  ahove  the  vale,  is  the  mount  of  Olyvete;  and 
"it  is  cleped  so,  for  the  plentee  of  olyves,  that  growen  there. 
"  That  mount  is  more  highe  <han  the  cytee  of  Jerusalem  is;  and 
"  therefore  may  men  upon  tha*  mount,  see  many  the  stretes  of  the 
"  cytee.  And  betwene  that  mount  and  the  cytee,  is  not  but  the 
"  vale  of  Josaphathe,  that  is  not  fulle  large.  And  fro  that  mount, 
"  steighe  cure  Lord  Jesu  Christ  to  hevene,  upon  Ascencioun-day : 
"  and  zit  there  schewethe  the  schapp  of  his  left  foot  in  the  ston," 
Voiage  and  I'ravaile,  8vo.  1725,  p.  116. 

In  Dr.  Andrew  Borde's  Introduction  af  Knouiedge,  1542,  Sign. 
N  S.  that  writer,  who  had  been  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem,  says. 
"  and  that  there  is  a  great  confluence  of  pylgrims  to  the,, holy  se- 
"  pulchre,  and  to  many  holy  places,  I  will  icy:<he  somewhat  that  I 
"  doo  know,  and  have  sene  in  the  place.  Whosoever  that  dothe 
"  pretende  to  go  to  Jerusalem,  let  him  prepare  himselfe  to  set 
"  forth  of  England  after  Easter  7  or  8  dayes,"  &c.  He  then  di- 
rects the  route  a  traveller  ought  to  take,  and  adds,  "  when  you 
"  come  to  Jerusalem,  the  friers  which  be  called  cordaline,  they  be 
"  of  sayuct  Fraunces,  other  they  wyl  receave  you  with  devocion 
"  and  brynge  you  to  the  sepulchre  :  the  holy  sepulchre  is  wythia 
"  the  church,  and  so  is  the  mount  of  Calvery,  where  Jesu  Christ 
"  did  suffer  his  passions.  The  churche  is  rounde  lyke  a  temple,  it 
"  is  more  larger  than  anye  temple  that  I  have  sene  amonges  the 
"  Jues.  The  sepulchre  is  grated  rounde  aboute  wyth  yrone,  than 
"  no  man  shall  great  or  pycke  out  any  stones.  Ihe  sepulchre  is 
"  lyke  a  lytle  house,  the  which  by  masons  was  dyged  out  of  a 
"  rocke  of  stone.  There  maye  stonde  wythin  the  sepulchre  a  x  or  a 
"  xii  parsons,  but  few  or  none  dothe  go  into  the  sepulcre,  except 
"  they  be  singulerly  beloved,  and  then  they  go  in  by  night  wyth 
"  great  feare  and  reverence." 


THE    FOUR    P's  55 


Before  thys  carkes  coulde^  come  thare 

Yet  have  I  bene  at  Rome  also, 

And  gone  the  statyons  ^°  all  arow : 

Saynt  peter's  shryne  and  many  mo, 

Than  yf  I  told  all  ye  do  know. 

Except  that  there  he  any  suche, 

That  hath  ben  there,  and  diligently 

Hath  taken  hede,  and  marked  muche, 

Then  can  they  speke  as  muche  as  I. 

Then  at  the  Rodes^°*  also  I  was  ; 

And  rounde  about  to  Amias^'. 

At  Saynt  Toncomber  and  Saynt  Tronion''^: 

At  Saynt  Bothulph  '^  and  Saynt  Anne  of  Buckstoni4 


^  coulde]  would,  e  lit.  1569. 

'•  the  statiions  (stationes,  orjurnee)]  Answered  to  the  stages  be- 
tween London  and  Rome,  or  Holy  Land  ;  of  which  there  is  a  map 
in  a  Ms.  of  Math.  Paris  Roy.  Libr.  14  C.  VIL  and  Benet.  Coll.  c. 
ix.  and  PI.  VII.  Brit.  Topog.  vol.  I.  p.  85.    G. 

In  Borde's  Introduction  "(before  quoted)  it  is  said,  and  foras- 
much as  there  may  bee  many  that  hath  wrytten  of  the  holy  lands, 
of  the  siacyoiis  and  of  the  jiirney  or  way,  I  doo  passe  over  to  speake 
forther  of  this  matter,  &c. 

10*  Rodes\  Ehoiles,  an  island  to  which  the  Knights  Hospitallers, 
now  Knights  of  Malta,  retired,  on  being  driven  out  of  Jerusalem. 
"  Amias]  Probably  Emaus,  near  Jerusalem. 
1-  Saint  Toncomhei'  and  Saynt  Tronmi]  Of  these  saints,  or  places, 
I  can  give  no  accotint. 

Mr.  Steevens  in  a  letter  to  the  printer  ef  the  Saint  James's 
Chronicle,  points  out  the  following  mention  of  Saint  Tronion,  in 
Geffi-ey  Fenton's  Tragical  Discourses,  4to.  1567  fo.  114  b.  "  He  re- 
"  turned  in  haste  to  his  lodgynge,  where  he  attended  the  approche 
"  of  his  bower  of  appointment  wyth  no  lesse  devocyon,  than  the 
"  Papistes  in  France  performe  their  ydolatrous  pilgrimage  to  the 
"  ydoll,  Saynt  Tronyon,  upon  the  mount  Avyon,  besides  Roan." 
Regarding  Saint  Toncomber,  he  professes  to  be  unable  to  add 
any  thing.     I.  R. 

This  worthy  is  also  noticed  in  the  following  terms  in  Apius  and 
Virginia  1575.  Sign.  E.  2. 

"  Nay,  softe,  my  maisters,  by  saincte  Thomas  of  Trunions. 
"  I  am  not  disposed  to   buy  of  yoi.r  onions."  C. 
'3  Saynt  Bothulph]  Saint  Bothulph  is  said  to  have  been  bom  in 
Cornwall,  and  was  eminent  for  working  miracles  about  the  time  of 
Lucius.     He  was  buried  at  Boston  in  Lincolnshire. 

1*  Saynt  Anne  of  Bucksmi]  "  Within  the  parish  of  Bacwell,  in 
« '  Derbyshyre,  is  a  chappel  (somtyme  dedicated  to  St.  Anne),  in  a 


56  THE  FOUR  P'S. 


On  the  hylles  of  Armony,  where  I  see»^  Noe's  arke  ^^ ; 
With  holy  Job,  and  saynt  George  in  Southwarke  '^ ; 
At  Waltam'8  and  at  Walsyngham^^; 

"  place  called  Bucston,  wheare  is  a  hotte  bathe,  of  such  like  qualitie 
"  as  those  mentioned  in  Bathe  be.  Hytherthey  weave  wont  to  run  on 
"  ■pilgrimage,  ascribinge  to  St.  Anne  miraculously,  that  thinge  which 
"  is  in  that  and  son<lrye  other  waters  naturally."  Lombardes  Dic- 
tionarium,  p.  48.    Drayton  says, 

" — I  can  again  produce  those  wondrous  wells 
"  Of  Bucston,  as  1  have,  that  most  delicious  fount 
"  Which  men  the  second  Bath  of  England  do  account, 
**  Which  in  the  primer  reigns,  when  first  this  well  began 
"  To  have  her  virtues  known  unto  the  blest  St.  Anne, 
**  Was  consecrated  then."  Poly  Olhion,  Song  xxvi. 

^*  see]  saw  2nd  edition. 

^6  hy'les  of  Armeny,  where  1  see  Noe's  arhe ;]  "  And  so  passe  men 
"  be  this  Ermonie,  and  entren  the  see  of  Persie.  Fro  that  cytee  of 
"  Artyroun,  go  men  to  an  hille  that  is  clept  Sobissocolle.  And  there 
"  besyde  is  another  hille,  that  men  clepen  ^rarut//e  :  but  the  Jewes 
"  clepen  it  Taneez  ;  where  Noes  schipp  rested,  and  zit  is  upon  that 
"  montayne:  and  men  may  seen  it  a  ferr,  in  cleer  wedre:  and 
"  that  montayne  is  wel  a  7  myle  highe.  And  sum  men  seyn,  that 
"  thei  han  seen  and  touched  the  schipp  ;  and  put  here  fyngres  in 
"  the  parties,  where  the  feend  went  out,  whan  that  Noe  seyde, 
''  Beneclicite.  But  they  that  seyn  suche  wordes,  seyn  here  wille  : 
"  for  a  man  may  not  gon  up  the  montayne,  for  gret  plentee  of 
"  snow,  that  is  alle  weys  on  that  montayne  ;  nouther  somer  ne 
"  wynter :  so  that  no  man  may  gon  up  there,  ne  never  man  dide, 
"  sithe  the  tyme  of  Noe,  saf  a  monk,  that,  be  the  grace  of  God 
"  broughte  on  of  the  plankes  doun ;  tkat  zit  is  in  the  mynstre,  at 
"  the  foot  of  the  montayne."  Maundevile's  Voiage  and  Travaile, 
1727,  p.  179. 

"  saynt  George  in  Sutltiarhel  Formerly  belonging  to  the  priory 
of  Bermondsey.     See  ^  tow's  !:iurvey. 

18  Waltam^  The  famous  holy  Cross  of  Waltham  :  which  tra- 
dition says  was  discovered  in  the  following  manner  :  A  carpenter, 
in  the  reign  of  Canute, living  at  Lutegaresbyry,  had  a  vision  in  the 
night  of  Christ  crucified,  by  whom  he  was  commanded  to  go  to  the 
parish  priest,  and  direct  him  to  walk,  accompanied  with  his  parish-^ 
ioners,  in  solemn  procession  to  the  top  of  an  adjoining  hill,  where 
on  digging  they  would  find  a  cross  the  very  sign  of  Christ's  pas- 
sion. The  man  neglecting  to  peiform  the  orders  of  the  image  was 
visited  by  it  a  second  time,  and  his  hands  were  then  griped  in  such 
a  manner,  th.at  the  marks  remained  some  time  after.  He  then  ac- 
quainted the  priest,  and,  as  they  were  ordered,  they  proceeded  to 
the  place  pointed  out,  where  they  discovered  a  great  marble,  hav- 
ing in  it  of  black  Hint  the  image  of  the  crucifix.  They  then  in- 
formed the  lord  of  the  manor  of  the  transaction  j  and  he  imme- 


THE  FOUR  P'S.  57 


And  at  the  good  rood^°  of  dagnam'-^'  ; 

diately  resolved  to  send  the  cross  first  to  Canterbury,  and  after- 
wards to  Reading ;  but  on  attempting  to  draw  it  to  these  places, 
although  with  the  force  of  twelve  red  oxen,  and  as  many  white 
kine,  it  was  found  impracticable,  and  he  was  obliged  to  desist. 
He  then  determined  to  fix  it  at  ^Valtham,  and  immediately  the 
wain  began  to  move  thither  of  itself.  In  the  way  many  persons 
were  healed  of  disorders  ;  and  the  relick  soon  became  much  re- 
sorted to  by  the  pilgrims  on  account  of  the  miracles  performed  by 
it.  Lambarde's  Dictionarium  Anglic  Topographicum  8^  Historicum, 
4to.  17S0,  p  431. 

^^  Walsynghurn]  "  Walsingham,  in  Norfolk,  where  was  anciently 
"  an  image  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  famous  over  all  Europe  for  the 
"  numerous  pilgrimages  made  to  it,  and  the  great  riches  it  pos- 
"  sessed.  Erasmus  has  given  a  very  exact  and  humorous  descrip- 
"  tion  of  the  superstitions  practised  there  in  his  time.  See  his  Ac- 
"  count  of  the  V^irgo  paratiialassia,  in  his  Colloquy,  intitled, 
"  Peregrinatio  Keligionis  Ergo.  He  tells  us  the  rich  oflfer- 
"  ings  in  silver,  gold,  and  precious  st  jnes,  that  were  there  shewn 
"  him,  were  incredible  ;  there  being  scarce  a  person  of  any  note 
"  in  England,  but  what  some  time  or  other  paid  a  visit,  or  sent  a 
"  present,  to  our  Lady  of  Walsingham.  At  the  dissolution  of 
"  the  monasteries,  in  1538,  this  splendid  image,  with  another  from 
"  Ipswich,  was  carried  to  Chelsea,  and  there  burnt  in  the  pre- 
"  sence  of  commissioners."  See  Percy's  Reliques  of  Ancient  Poetry 
vol.  II.  p.  79. 

Robert  Longland,  in  Pier's  Pbwjnans  Visiojis,  1550,  p.  1.  says, 
"  Herraets  on  a  heape,  wyth  hoked  staves, 
"  Wenten  to  Walsingham,  and  her  wenches  after. 
"  Great  loubies  and  longe,  yt  loth  were  to  swinke, 
"  Clothed  him  in  copes  to  be  knowen  from  other, 
"  And  shopen  hem  her  mets  ;  her  ease  to  have.'' 
See  also  Weever's  Funeral  Moiiuments,  p.  131, 
*o  rood]  Hearne,  in  his  Glossary  to  Peter  Langtoft,  p.  544.  under 
the  word  crms  observes,  that  although  the  cross  and  the  rood  are 
commonly  taken  for  the  same,   yet  the   rood   properly  gignified 
formerly  the  image  of  Christ  on  the  cross,  so  as  to  represent  both 
the  cross  and  the  figure  of  our  blessed  Saviour  as  he  suffered  upon 
it.     The  roods  that  were  in  churches  and  chapels  were  placed  in 
shrines,  that  were  styled  Rood-l-fti,  "  Rood-loft  (saith  Blount)  a 
"  shrine,  whereon  was  placed  the  cross  of  Christ.  The  rood  was  an 
"  image  of  Christ  on  the  cross,  made    generally  of  wood,  and 
"  erected  in  a  loft  for  that  purpose,  just  over  the  passage  out  of  the 
"  church  into  the  chancel."     But  rood-loft  sometimes  also  signifies 
a  shrine,  on  which  was  placed  the  image  or  relicks  of  a  saint,  be- 
cause generally  a  crucifix,  or  a  cross,  used  likewise  to  attend  such 
image  or  relicks. 

2'  Dagnami  i.  e.  Dagenham,  in  Essex. 


58  THE  rouii  p's. 

At  saynt  Cornelys  -'^;  at  saynt  James  in  Gales '^^ : 

And  at  saynt  Wynefryde's  well^^  in  Walles; 

At  our  lady  of  Boston '^^;  at  saynt  Edmund's  byry*^^; 

2*  saynt  Cm^nelys]  Saint  Cornelys,  according  to  the  Legenda 
Aurea,  succeeded  Fabyan  in  the  papacy,  and  was  beheaded  m  the 
reign  of  Decian,  for  refusing  to  sacrifice  in  the  Temple  of  Mars. 
There  was  a  fraternity  in  his  honour  at  Westminster.  See  their 
pardon,  Brit.  Top.  I.  772. 

'3  saynt  James  in  Galesi  Weever  in  his  Funeral  Monuments, 
p.  172.  observes  that  "  — the  Italians,  yea  those  that  dwell  neare 
"  Rome,  will  mocke  and  scoffe  at  our  English  (and  other)  pil- 
"  grims  that  go  to  Rome  to  see  the  Pope's  holinesse,  and  St. 
"  Peter's  chaire,  and  yet  they  themselves  will  runne  to  see  the  re- 
"  liques  of  Saint  lames  af  Compostella  in  the  kingdom  of  Galicia,  in 
"  Spaine,  which  is  above  twelve  hundred  English  miles."  See  also 
Dr.  Geddes's  Tracts. 

2*  sayjit  Wynefryde's  welt]  Saint  Wenefrede's  well,  near  Holy- 
well, in  the  county  of  Flint,  is  a  spring  which  rises  at  the  foot  of 
a  steep  hill  out  of  a  rock,  and  is  formed  into  a  beautiful  polygonal 
well,  covered  with  a  rich  arch  s^ipported  by  pillars ;  the  roof  ex- 
quisitely carved  in  stone  ;  over  the  fountain,  the  legend  of  St. 
Wenefrede  on  a  pendent  projection,  with  the  arms  of  England  at  the 
bottom.  Numbers  of  fine  ribs  secure  the  arch,  whose  intersections  are 
coupled  with  some  sculpture.  To  this  place  the  resort  of  pilgrims 
was  formerly  very  great ;  and,  though  considerably  diminished, 
there  are  still  to  be  seen  in  the  summer  a  few  in  the  water  in  deep 
devotion  up  to  their  chins  for  hours,  sending  up  their  prayers,  or 
performing  a  number  of  evolutions  round  the  polygonal  well ;  or 
threading  the  arch  between  well  and  well  a  prescribed  number  of 
times.  The  legend  of  St.  Wenefrede  is  well  known.  Those  who 
desire  more  information  on  this  subject ;  may  be  referred  to  The 
Legenda  Aurea,  PAshop  Fleetuvod's  Works;  or  Mr.  PennunVs  Tour 
into  Wales,  p.  28. 

25  At  our  Lady  of  Boston^  Or  Botolph's  town,  in  Lincolnshire, 
where  St.  Botolph  was  buried. 

^"  Delicious  W'ytham  leads  to  holy  Botolph's  town." 

Poly  Olhion,  Song  xxv. 

^^  At  saynt  Edmimd's  byry]  "  — is  named  of  Kinge  Edmunde, 
"  whom  the  comon  Chronicles  call  St.  Edmund,  or  Edmund  the 
'*  Martyr;  for  Bury,  is  but  to  say  a  court  or  palace.  It  was  first 
"  a  colledge  of  priestes,  founded  by  Athelstane  the  kinge  of 
"  Ingland,  to  the  honour  and  memorye  of  Edmund  that  was  slayne 
"  at  Hoxton  (then  called  Eylesdund  [or  Eglesdon],  as  Leland 
"  thinketh,)  whose  bones  he  removed  thyther.  The  hole  hystorie 
"  of  this  matter  is  so  enterlaced  with  miracles,  that  Polydor  him- 
"  selfe  (who  beleaved  them  better  than  I)  began  to  dalye  with  it ; 
"  sayinge,  that  Monkes  tvere  muche  delighted  with  them."  Lam- 
barde's  Dictionarium,  p.  35. 


THE  FOUIl  P'S.  59 


And  streyg'ht  to  saynt  Patryke's  purgatory-^ ; 
At  Ridybone^^  and  at  the  blood  of  Hayles% 

^7  Siiijnt  Patryhe's  'purgatorui']  This  place,  which  was  much  fre- 
quented by  pilgrims,  was  situate  on  a  lake  called  Logh  Derg,  in 
the  Southern  part  of  the  county  of  Donegall,  near  the  borders  of 
Tyrone  and  Fermanagh.  It  was  surrounded  with  wild  and  barren 
mountains,  and  was  almost  inaccessible  by  horsemen  even  in  sum- 
mer time,  on  account  of  great  bogs,  rocks,  and  j  recipices,  which 
environed  it.  The  popular  tradition  concerning  it  is  as  ridiculous 
as  is  to  be  found  in  any  Legend  of  the  Romish  Martyrology. 
After  continuing  in  gieat  credit  many  years,  it  began  to  decline; 
and  in  the  13th  of  Henry  the  Seventh  was  demolished  with  great 
solemnity,  on  St.  Patrick's- day,  by  the  Pope's  express  order.  It, 
however,  afterwards  came  into  reputation  again,  insomuch  that,  by 
an  order  of  the  Privy  Council,  dated  13th  of  September,  16S2,  it 
was  a  second  time  destroyed.  From  this  period,  as  pilgrimages 
grew  less  in  fashion,  it  will  appear  extraordinary  that  the  place 
should  be  a  third  time  restored  to  its  original  state,  and  as  much 
visited  as  in  any  former  i)eriod.  In  this  condition  it  continued 
until  the  second  year  of  Queen  Anne,  when  an  act  of  the  Irish 
Parliament  declared,  that  all  meetings  und  assemblies  there  should 
be  adjudged  riots  and  unlawful  assemblies,  and  inflicted  a  penalty 
upon  every  person  meeting  or  assembling  contrary  to  the  Statute. 
The  ceremonies  to  be  performed  by  the  pilgrims  are  very  exactly 
set  forth  in  Richardson's  Great  Folly,  Superstition,  and  Idolatry,  of 
Pilgrimages  in  Ireland,  especially  of  that  to  St.  Patrick's  Purgatory 
Dublin,  Svo.  1727. 

Enough  I'.ath  been  already  said  on  the  siibject  of  Saint  Patrick's 
Fiirgatory,  I  shall  therefore  only  add,  that  it  is  often  mentioned  in 
Froiiisard's  Chronicle,  and  that  Sir  James  IMelvil  who  visited  it  in 
3  545,  describes  it  as  looking  "  like  an  old  coal-pit,  which  had 
"  taken  fire,  by  reason  of  the  smoke  that  came  out 'of  the  hole." 
Melvil's  Memoirs,  p.  9.  edit.  1683. 

It  is  mentioned  in  Erasmus's  Praise  of  Folie,  1549,  Sign.  A. 
'*  Whereas  before  ye  satte  all  heavie  and  glommyng,  as  if  ye  had 
"  come  lately  from  Troponins  cave,  or  Saint  Pattricke's  purgatorie." 
*8  Ridubone.l  i.  e.  Redburne  within  three  miles  of  St.  Alban's. 
"  At  this  place,  says  Norden,  were  founde  thereliques  of  Amphi- 
"  ball,  who  is  saide  to  be  the  instructour  and  convertour  of  Alban 
"  from  Paganisme,  of  whose  reliques  such  was  the  regard  that  the 
"  abbottes  of  tlie  monasterie  of  Alban  had,  that  they  should  be 
"  devoutly  preserved,  that  a  decree  was  made  by  Thomas  then 
"  abbott,  that  a  pryor  and  three  munckes  should  be  appointed  to 
"  this  holie  function,  whose  allowance  in  those  dayes  amounted 
"  jearely  to  20  pound,  or  upwardes,  as  much  as  three  hundred 
"  pound  in  this  age.''     Description  of  Hartfordshire,  p.  22. 

See  also  Weever's  Funei-al  Monuments,  p.  585.  Dr.  Middleton, 
in  bis  Letter  from  Rome,  says,  Bishop  Usher  has  proved  that  this 


60  THE  FOUR  P'S. 


Where  pilgrymes  paynes  ryglit  much  avayles ; 
At  saynt  DaVys^  and  at  saynt  Denis^' ; 

saint  never  existed,  and  that  we  owe  the  honour  of  his  saintship 
to  a  mistaken  passage  in  the  Legend  of  St.  Alban,  where  the 
Amphibolus  there  mentioned  is  nothing  more  than  a  cloak." 

29  blood  of  Hayles.']  The  abbey  of  Hailes,  in  Gloucestershire,  was 
founded  by  Richard,  king  of  the  Romans,  brother  to  Henry  the 
Third,  'ihis  precious  relick,  which  was  commonly  called  the  blood 
of  Hailes,  was  brought  out  of  Germany  by  Richard's  son  Edmund, 
who  bestowed  a  third  part  of  it  upon  his  father's  abbey  of  Hailes, 
and  some  time  after  gave  the  other  two  parts  to  an  abbey  of  his 
OMVTi  foundation  at  Ashrug,  near  Berkhamstead.  It  was  given  out, 
and  believed  to  have  this  property,  that,  if  a  man  was  in  mortal 
sin,  and  not  absolved,  he  could  not  see  it  ;  otherwise,  he  might 
see  it  very  well :  therefore  every  man  that  came  to  see  this  mira- 
cle, this  most  precious  blood,  confessed  himself  first  to  one  of  the 
priests  there  ;  and  then,  offering  f^omething  at  the  altar,  was  di- 
rected to  a  chapel,  where  the  miracle  was  shewed  ;  the  priest  who 
confessed  him,  in  the  mean  time  retiring  to  the  back  part  of  the 
said  chapel,  and  putting  forth  a  little  cabinet,  or  vessel  of  crystal ; 
which  being  thick  on  the  on'^  side,  that  nothmg  could  be  seen 
through  it ;  but  on  the  other  side,  thin  and  transparent,  they  used 
diversely,  as  their  interest  required.  On  the  dissolution  of  the 
abbey,  it  was  discovered  to  be  nothing  more  than  honey  clarified 
and  coloured  with  saffron,  "  an  unctowse  gumme  coloured,  which 
in  the  glasse  apperyd  to  be  a  glisterynge  red  resemblyng  partlie 
the  color  of  blood,  and  owte  of  the  glasse  apparaunte  g^lystering 
yelow  colour  like  ambre  or  basse  gold."  Certificate  of  visitors, 
printed  at  end  of  Hearne's  Benedictus  Abbas  II.  751. 

30  Saynt  Davys]  i.  e.  Saint  David.  Drayton,  in  his  Poly  Olbion, 
Songxxiv.  says, 

"  Whose  Cambro  Britons  so  their  saints  as  duly  brought, 
"  T'  advance  the  Christian  faith,  effectually  that  wrought ; 
"  Their  David  (one  deriv'd  of  th'  royal  British  blood), 
"  Who  'against  Pelagius'  false  and  damn'd  opinions  stood  ; 
"  And  turn'd  Menenia's  name  to  David's  sacred  see, 
"  The  patron  of  the  Welsh  deserving  well  to  be." 
See  an  account  of  him  in  an  extract  from  Bale,   in  Godwin  de 
Precsidihis  Aiiglice,  p.  573.  edit.   1745.     He  is  said  to  have  been 
bishop  65  years,  and  to  have  lived   146.     He   died,  according  to 
some  accounts,  in  the  year  546,  according  to  others,  in  the  year 
542.     His  shrine,  I  am  informed  remains  in  the  wall  of  his  cathe- 
dral in  Pembrokeshire. 

'1  saynt  Denis.]  St.  Denis,  the  patron  of  France,  is  said  to  have 
been  the  disciple  of  St.  Paul,  and  the  first  who  preached  the  gospel 
to  the  French.  The  Legend  concerning  him  affirms,  that,  after  he 
was  beheaded  near  Paris,  he  walked  four  miles  with  his  head  in 
his  hands.  His  body  was  said  to  be  intombed  very  magnificently 
at  the  abbey  of  St.  Denis,  to  which  the  pilgrims  used  to  resort. 


THE  FOUR  P'S.  61 


At  saynt  Mathew,  and  saynt  Mark  in  Venis'^  ; 
At  mayster  Johan  shorne  at  Canterbury  33 ; 
The  graet  God  of  Katewades*,  at  kynge  Henry  s^ 
At  saynt  Savyour's^^ ;  at  our  lady  of  Southwell  ^7 ; 


3'  Sayyit  Mark  in  Venis]  At  the  Church  of  St.  Mark,  in  Venice, 
they  pretend  to  have  the  body  of  that  Evangelist,  which  was 
brought  thither  by  certain  merchants  from  Alexandria  in  Egypt  in 
the  year  810.  Cory  at  says,  that  the  treasure  of  this  church  was  of 
that  inestimable  value,  that  it  was  thought  no  treasure  whatsoever 
in  any  other  place  in  Christendom  might  compare  with  it,  neither 
that  of  St.  Denis  in  France,  nor  St.  Peter's  in  Rome,  nor  that  of 
Madonna  de  Loretto  in  Italy,  nor  that  of  Toledo  in  Spain,  nor  any 
other.  See  Coryat's  Crudities,  p.  2M  :  and  The  Commonwealth  and 
Government  of  Venice,hy  Contareno,  translated  by  Lewes  Lewknor, 
Esq.  1599,  p.  175. 

^^  mayster  Johan  shorne  in  Canterbury;']  Who  this  John  Shoi^ne 
■was  I  can  give  no  account.  In  the  Preface  to  The  Accedence  qf 
Armorie,  4to.  1597,  a  story  is  told  of  one  who  had  been  called  to 
worship  in  a  city  within  Middlesex,  and  who  being  desired  by  a 
herald  to  shew  his  coat  (i.  e.  of  arms,)  "  called  unto  his  mayd, 
"  commanding  her  to  fetch  his  coat,  which,  being  brought,  was  of 
"  cloth  garded  with  a  burgunian  gard  of  bare  velvet,  well  bawde- 
"  fied  on  the  halfe  placard,  and  squallotted  in  the  fore  quarters. 
"  Lo,  quoth  the  man  to  the  heraught,  here  it  is,  if  ye  will  buy  it, 
"  ye  shall  have  time  of  payment,  as  fiist  to  pay  halfe  in  hand,  and 
**  the  rest  by  and  by.  And  with  much  boste  he  said,  he  ware  not 
"  the  same  since  he  came  last  from  Sir  John  Shorne,  Sec," 

'■•  Kateicade]  Catwade-bridge  is  in  Sampford  hundred,  in  the 
county  of  Suffolk,  where  there  may  have  been  a  famous  chapel  and 
rood.     G. 

35  Heyiry']  Herry,  edit.  1569. 

36  Saynt  Savyotir's']  "  In  September,  the  same  yeare  (says 
"  Weever,  p.  111.),  viz.  an.  30  Hen.  VIII.  by  the  special  motion 
"  of  great  Cromwell,  all  the  notable  images,  unto  the  which  were 
"  made  any  especiall  pilgrimages  and  offerings,  as  the  images  of 
"  our  Lady  of  Walsingham,  Ipswich,  Worcester,  the  Lady  of  Wils 
"  don,  the  rood  of  grace  of  our  Lady  of  Boxley,  and  the  image  of 
"  the  rood  of  Saint  Saviour  at  Bermondsey,  with  all  the  rest,  were 
"  brought  up  to  London,  and  burnt  at  Chelsey,  at  the  command- 
"  ment  of  the  foresaid  Cromwell,  all  the  jewels,  and  other  rich 
"  offerings,  to  these,  and  to  the  shrines  (which  were  all  likewise 
"  taken  away,  or  beaten  to  pieces)  of  other  saints  throughout  both 
*'  England  and  Wales  were  brought  into  the  king's  treasure.'* 

"  at  our  lady  of  SorithweW]    The  church  dedicated  to  Saint  Mary 
at  Southwel,  in  Nottinghamshire. 


62  THE  FOUR  P'S. 

At  Crome38,  at  Wylsdome*^,  and  at  Muswel^°; 
At  saynt  Rycharde^i,  and  at  saynt  Roke'*'^; 

38  Crome]    In  the  County  of  Kent,  near  Greenwich. 
3!J  Wyhdome]  In  Finsbury  hundred,  INIiddlesex,  the  chapel  de- 
dicated to  St.  Mary.     See  above,  Note  36. 

■*"  at  Muswell  "  Musxrell-hiU,  called  also  Pinsen all-hill  :  there 
"  was  a  chappie  sometime  bearing  the  name  of  our  ladie  of  Mus- 
"  well :  where  now  Alderman  Roe  hath  erected  a  proper  houce, 
"  the  place  taketh  name  of  the  well  and  of  the  hill,  Mousewell- 
"  hill ;  for  there  is  on  the  hill  a  spring  of  faire  water,  which  is 
"  now  within  the  compass  of  the  house.  There  was  sometime  an 
"  image  of  the  ladie  of  Muswell,  whereunto  was  a  continuall  re- 
"  sort,  in  the  way  of  pylgrimage,  growing  as  is  (though  as  1  take 
"  it  fabuloiislie)  reported  in  regard  of  a  great  cure  which  was  per- 
"  formed  by  this  water,  upon  a  king  of  Scots,  who  being  strangely 
"  diseased,  was,  by  some  devine  intelligence,  advised  to  take  the 
"  water  of  a  well  in  England,  called  MusiceU,  which  after  long 
"  scrutation  and  inquisition,  this  well  was  found  and  performed 
"  the  cure."  Norden's  Speculum  Britann'ut,  p.  S6.  edit.  1723.  I 
am  informed,  that  the  mosaic  pavement  and  pther  ruins  of  this 
well  and  its  chapel  were  to  be  seen  about  25  years  ago. 

*'  saynte  '^ycharde]  This  was  probably  Uichard  Fitznige,  bishop 
of  London,  and  treasurer  of  England,  in  the  time  of  Henry  the 
Second.  His  shrine  was,  as  Wcever  observes,  p.  714.  in  St.  Paul's 
Church ;  and  as  he  contributed  largely  to  the  building  of  the 
church,  he  conjectures  it  to  have  been  erected  there  on  that 
account.  Drayton,  however,  in  his  Poly  Olbion,  Song  xxiv.  speaks 
of  others  of  that  name,  as 

"  Richard,  the  dear  son  to  Lothar  king  of  Kent, 
"  When  he  bis  happy  days  religiously  had  spent ; 
"  And  feeling  the  approach  of  his  declining  age, 
"  Desirous  to  see  Rome  in  holy  pilgrimage  ; 
"  Into  tliy  country  come,  at  Lucca  left  his  life, 
"  Whose  miracles  there  done,  jet  to  this  day  are  rife." 
Again, 

"  So  countries  more  remote  with  ours  we  did  acquaint, 
"  As  Ricluird  for  the  fame  his  holiness  had  won, 
"  And  for  the  wondrous  things  that  through  his  prayers  were  done  j 
•'  From  this  his  native  home  into  Calabria  call'd, 
"  And  of  St.  Andrew's  there  the  bishop  wasinstall'd  ; 
"  For  whom  she  haih  profess'd  much  reverence  to  this  land." 
Again, 

"  So  other  southern  sees,  here  either  less  or  more, 

"  Have  likewise  had  their  saints 

"  ^ —  we  have  of  Chichester 

"  Saint  Richard,  and  with  him  St.  Gilbert,  which  do  stand 

*'  InioU'd  amongst  the  rest  of  this  our  mitred  band." 

*2  Saynt  Roke]  Saint  Roke,  or  Roch,  was  born  at  Montpelier,  in 


THE  FOUR  P's.  63 


And  at  our  lady  that  standeth  in  the  oke.* 

To  these,  with  other  many  one, 

Devoutly  have  I  prayed  and  gone, 

Prayeing  to  thera,  to  pray  for  me 

Unto  the  blessed  trynytye, 

By  whose  prayers  and  my  dayly  payne, 

I  truste  the  soner  to  obtain '^^ 

For  my  salvacyon,  grace  and  mercy. 

For  be  ye  sure  I  thynke  surely,*** 

Who  seketh  sayntes  for  Chryste's  sake, 

And  namely  suche  as  payne  do  take 

On  fote,  to  punysh  their  ^^  frail  body. 

Shall  therby  meryte  more  hyely 

Then  by  any  thynge  done  by  man. 

Pardoner. '^^  And  when  ye  have  gone  as  far  as  ye^'' 
can, 
For  all  your  labour  and  gostely  entente, 
Ye*^  will  come  home  as  wyse  as  ye  wente. 

Palmer,  Why,  syr,  dyspyse  ye  pylgrymage  ? 

Pardoner.  Nay,  fore*''  god,  syr,  then  dyd  I  rage; 
I  thynke  ye  ryght  well  oocupyed, 
To  seke  these  sayntes  on  every  syde. 
Also  your  payne  ^°  I  nat  dyspraise  it; 
But  yet  I  discomende  your  wit: 
And  or  ^^  we  go  even  so  shall  ye, 
If  you  in  thys  wyl  answere  me. 


France  ;  and  died  in  prison  at  Anglerye,  in  tlie  province  of  Lom- 
bardy,  wliere  a  large  church  was  built  in  honour  of  him.  See 
Legenda  Aurea,  p.  238. 

*   World  of  Wondei-s,  Hie.     O.  G. 

^3  obtain']  obtaye,  1st  edit.         **  surely]  assuredly  2d  edit. 

*'^  their'}  thy,  1st  edit.  * 

46  Piirdoner]  "  Pardoners  were  certain  fellows  that  carried 
"  about  the  Pope's  Indulgences,  and  sold  them  to  such  as  would 
"  buy  them  ;  against  whom  Luther,  by  Sleydau's  report,  incensed 
"  the  people  of  Germany  in  his  time,  exhorting  them  ne  merces  tarn 
"  viles  tanti  emerent."     Cowei.. 

*T  ye\  you,  edit.  1569. 

48  Ye  tv ill  come  home]    Yet  welcome,  1st  edit. 

4" /ore]  for,  1st  edit.  ^^  P^yne]  paynes,  2d  edit. 

(»r]  ere,  edit.  15  69, 


64 


THE  FOUR  PS. 


I  pray  you  shew  what  the  cause  Is 
Ye  wente  all  these  pylgTymages  ? 

Palmer.  Forsoth,this  lyfe  I  dyd  begyii 
To  rydde  the  bondage  of  my  syn  : 
For  whiche  these  sayntes  rehersed  or  this  : 
I  have  both  sought  and  sene,  I  wys  ; 
Besechynge  them  to  bear  recorde 
Of  all  my  payne,  unto  the  lord, 
That  gyveth  all  remyssion, 
Upon  eche  man's  contricyon  : 
And  by  thyr  good  mediacion, 
Upon  myne^^  humble  submyssion, 
I  trust  to  have  in  very  dede, 
For  my  soule  helthe  the  better  spede. 

Pardoner.  Nowe  is  your  owne  confessyon  lykely 
To  make  yourselfe  ^3  a  fole  quyckely. 
For  I  perceyve  ye  wolde  obtayn 
No  other  **  thynge  for  all  your  payne. 
But  onely  grace  your  soule  to  save  : 
Now  marke  in  this  what  wyt  ye  have. 
To  seke  so  farre,  and  helpe  so  nye ; 
Even  here  at  home  is  remedy : 
For  at  your  dore  myselfe  doth  dwell. 
Who  coulde  have  saved  your  soule  as  well ; 
As  all  your  wyde  wandrynge  shall  do, 
Though  ye  wente  thryes  to  Jericho. 
Nowe  syns  ye  myght  have  spedde  at  home, 
What  have  ye  wone  by  ronnying  ^^  at  Rome  ? 

Palmer.  If  this  be  true  that  ye  have  moved, 
Then  is  my  wyt  in  dede  reproved. 
But  let  us  here  fyrste  what  ye  are  ? 

Pardoner.  Truly  I  am  a  pardoner. 

Palmer.  Truly  a  pardoner !  that  may  be  true ; 
But  a  true  pardoner  doth  nat  ensew. 

^^  myne]  my,  edit.  1569.  *3  yourself e\  you,  edit.  1569. 

**  no  other]  nother,  1st  edit. 

5*  ronnying]   running,  1st  edit. 

This  is  a  mistake,  the  first  edition  reading  ronnying,  which  is 
the  old  spelUng  of  running.  Another  error  was  committed  in 
printing  it  hitherto  "  running  to  Rome"  the  correct  reading  being 
*  ronnying  at  Rome."     C. 


THE  FOUR  P  S. 


65 


Ryght  selde  is  it  sene,  or  never, 

That  treuth  and  pardoners  dwell  together, 

For  be  your  pardons  never  so  great, 

Yet  them  to  enlarge  ye  wyll  nat  let, 

With  suche  lyes,  that  ofttymes  Cryste  wot, 

Ye  seme  to  have  that  ye  have  nat. 

Wherfore  I  went  my  selfe  totheselfe  thynge 

In  every  place,  and  without  faynynge  : 

Had  as  much  pardon  there  assuredly, 

As  ye  can  promyse  me  here  doutefully. 

Howe  be  it,  I  thynke  ye  do  but  scolFe  :  '^ 

But  yf  ye  hadde  all  the  pardon  ye  speak *7  of, 

And  no  whyt  of  pardon  graunted 

In  any  place,  where  I  have  haunted: 

Yet  of  my  labour  I  nothynge  repent; 

God  hathe  respect  how  eche  tyme  is  spent. 

And  as  in  his  knowlege  all  is  regarded  : 

So  by  his  goodnes  all  is  rewarded. 

Pardoner.  By  the  ^s  fyrste  parte  of  this  last  tale, 

It  seemeth  ye  came  of  late  *-'  from  the  ale. 

For  reason  on  your  syde  so  farre  doth  fayle, 

That  ye  leve  reasoning,  ^o  and  begyn  to  rayle. 

Wherin  you  '5'  forget  your  owne  part  clerely 

For  you  ^^  be  as  untrue  as  I : 

And  in  one  poynte  ye  are  beyonde  me. 

For  you  ^^  may  lye  by  aucthoryte. 

And  all  that  have  ^^  wandred  so  farre, 

That  no  man  can  be  theyr  controller. 

And  where  you  ^^  esteme  your  labour  so  muche  ; 

I  say  yet  agayne  my  pardons  are^^  suche. 

That  yf  there  were  a  thousand  soules  on  a  hepe, 

^7 1  wold  brynge  them  all  to  heven,  as  good  chepe, 

56  scoffe]  scofte,  1st  edit.  *^  speak]  kepe,  let  edit. 

5»  the]  this,  edit.  1569. 
^^  ye  came  of  late]  you  come  late,  1st  edit. 
^reasoning]  sonyng,  1st  edit.  ^^  you]  ye,  1st  edit. 

*^  you]  ye,  1  st  edit.  ^ '  you]  ye,  1  st  edit. 

**  hate]  hath,  1st  edit.  ^^  yon]  ye,  1st  edit. 

6^  are]  be,  1st  edit. 

"^  I  wold  brynge  them  all  to  heven,  as  good  chepe].     Cheap,   as  Dr. 
JoliDson  observes,  is  market,  and  good  che<(p  therefore  is  boti  marche. 


66 


THE  FOUR    P  S. 


As  ye  have  brought  yourselfe  on  pylgrymage. 

In  the  least  ^^  quarter  of  your  vyage, 

Which  is^''  far  a  this  side  heaven,  by  god: 

There  your  labour  and  pardon  is  od. 

With  smale  cost  and  without  any  payne, 

These  pardons  bring '^  them  to  heven  playne, 

Geve  me  but  a  peny  or  two  pens, 

And  assone  as  the  soule  departeth  hens, 

In  halfe  an  houre,  or  thre  quarters  at  the  raoste, 

The  soule  is  in  heven  ;  with  the  holy  ghost. 

Poticary.  Sende  ye  any  souls  to  heaven  by  water  ? 

Pardoner.  If  we  doo,^'  sir,  what  is  the  mater  ? 

Poticary.    By    god,    I    have   a   drye   soule  shulde 
thyther ; 
I  praye  you  let  our  soules  go  to  heven  togyther, 
So  bysy  you  twayne  be  in  soules  helth  ; 
May  nat  a  potycary  come  in-by  stelth? 
Yes,  that  I  wyl  ^^  by  saynt  Antony, 
And  by  the  leve  of  thys  company. 
Prove  ye  false  knaves  bothe,  ere'^  we  goo, 
In  parte  of  your  sayenges,  as  thys,  lo, 
Thou,  by  thy  travayle,  thynkest  heaven  to  gete  : 
And  thou  by  pardons  and  reliques  countest  no  lete  '*, 
To  sende  thyne  owne  soule  to  heaven  sure ; 
And  all  other  whome  thou  lyste  to  procure. 

The  expression  is  very  frequent  in  ancient  writers,  as  in  Church- 
yard's Worthyne$s  of  Wales.     Evans's  Edition,  1776,  p.  3. 
"  Victuals  ^ood  cheap  in  most  part  of  Wales." 

Euphnes,  1581,  p.  8.  "  Seeing  thou  wilt  not  buie  counsayle  at 
"  the  first  hande  g-ood  c/(e«/;e,  thou  shalt  buy  repentance  at  second 
"  hand,  at  such  an  unreasonable  rate  that  thou  wilt  curse  thy  hard 
"  penyworth,  and  ban  thy  Lard  heart." 

Dekkar's  Behuans  Night-walks,  K  4.  "He  buyes  other  men's 
"  cunning  good  c/irap  in  London,  and  selsit  deare  in  the  countrey." 

See  other  instances  in  Mr.  Steevens's  Note  on  First  Part  of  King 
Henry  IV.     A.  3.  S.  3. 

68  lenst'\  leste,  1st  edit,  least,  edit.  1569. 

And  as  least  is  probably  the  reading  the  author  intended,  and  is 
supported  by  both  the  old  copies,  it  is  restored  ;  the  Pardoner 
means  in  the  smallest  quarter  of  the  Palmer's  voyage.     C. 

69  is]  as,  1st  edit.  '"  bring]  bryngeth,  1st  edit. 
7'  doo]  dyd,  1st  edit.                '2  Z"  u;i^/]  we  will,  edit.  1569. 
^3  ere]  or,  1st  edit.                    '♦  lete]  i.  e.  hinderance. 


THE  FOUR  P*S.  67 


If  I  toke  an  accyon,  then  were  they  blanke; 

For  lyke  theeves  the  knaves ^^  rob  away  my  thanke. 

All  souies  in  heven,  havynge  relefe, 

Shall  they  thanke  your   craftes?    nay,  thanke   myn 

chefe. 
No  soule,  ye  knowe,  entreth  heven  gate, 
Tyll  from  the  bodye  he  be  separate  ; 
And  whome  have  ye  knowen  dye  honestly  ''^, 
Without  helpe  of  the  potycary  ? 
Nay,  all  that  commeth  to  our  handlynge, 
Except  ye  happe  to  come  to  hangynge ; 
That  way,  perchaunce,  ye  shall  nat  myster, 
To  go  to  heven  without  a  glyster. 
But  be  ye  sure  I  wolde  be  wo  '''^^ 
li"'^  ye  shulde  chaunce  to  begyle  me  so. 
As  good  to  lye  with  me  a  nyght. 
As  hang  abrode  in  the  mone  light. 
There  is  no  choyse  to  fle  my  hand, 
But,  as  I  sayd,  into  the  bande. 
Syns  of  our  souies  the  multitude 
I  sende  to  heaven,  when  all  is  vewd, 
Who  shulde  but  I  then  all  togyther, 
Have  thanke  of  all  theyr  comynge  thyther? 

Pardoner.  If  ye  kyl'd  a  thousande  in  an  houre  space, 
When  come  they  to  heven  dyenge  out  of  grace  "^^  ? 

Poikary.  If  a  thousande  pardons  about  your  necks 
were  teyd ; 
When  come  they  to  heven,  yf  they  never  dyed  ? 

Palmer.  Long  lyfe  after  good  workes  in  dede 
Doth  hinder  manne's  receyt  of  mede; 
And  deth  before  one  dewty  done. 
May  make  us  thynke  we  dye  to  sone. 

7S  rob]  they  rob,  edit.  1569.  '•>  honestlij]  bostely,  1st  edit. 

'7  I  woide  be  wo]  To  be  woe,  is  often  used  by  old  writers,  to  sig- 
nify to  be  sorry.     So  Shakspeare's  Tempest,  A.  5.  S.  1. 

I  am  woe  for't,  Sir. 

Cbaucer's  Court  of  Love : 

" I  icolde  be  wo, 

"  That  I  presume  to  her  is  writin  so." 
See  Mr.Steevens's  Note  on  Shakspeare,  vol.  l.p.  106. 
78  If]  That,  edit.  1569. 
'^  dyenge  out  of  grace]  from  state  of  grace,  1st  edit. 


68  THE   FOUR   P's. 


Yet  better  tary  a  thing  then  ^°  have  it; 
Then  go  to  sone,  and  vaynly  crave  it. 

Pardoner.  The  longer  ye  dwell  in  communicacion, 
The  lesse  shall  ye  lyke  thys  ymagynacyon. 
For  ye*'  may  perceyve  even  at  the  fyrst  chop, 
Your  tale  is  trapt  in  such  a  stop. 
That,  at  the  leste,  ye  seme  worse  than  we. 

Poticary.    By  the   masse,    I   holde  us   nought   all 
thre. 

Pedler,  By  our  lady,  then  have  I  gone  wronge  ; 
And  yet  to  be  here  I  thought  it  longe. 

Poticary.  Brother,  he  have  gone  wrong  no  wyt, 
I  prayse  your  fortune  and  your  wyt, 
That  can  dyrecte  you  so  discretely, 
To  plante  you  in  this  company. 
Thou  a  palmer,  and  thou  a  pardoner, 
r  a  poticary. 

Pedler.  And  I  a  pedler. 

Poticary.  Nowe,  on  my  fayth,  ful  well  watched; 
Where  the  devyll  were  we  foure  hatched  ? 

Pedler.  That  maketh  no  matter,  since  we  be  matched, 
I  coulde  be  mery  yf  that  I  had  catchyd 
Some  money  for  parte  of  the  ware  in  my  packe. 

Poticary.  What  the  devyll  hast  thou  there  at  thy 
back? 

Pedler.    What   dost   thou   nat   knowe,  that   every 
pedler 
In  all  kinde  of  trifles  s*  must  be  a  medler? 
Specyally  in  women's  tryflinges  ; 
Those  use  we  cheeflys^  above  all  thinges, 
Whiche  thyngs  to  se,  yf  ye  be  disposed^ 
Beholde  what  ware  here  is  disclosed  ; 
This  gere  sheweth  itself  in  suche  bewte, 
That  eche  man  thynketh^'*  it  saith  come  bye  me. 
Loke  where  your  self  can  lyke  to  be  chooser, 
Yourselfe  shall  make  pryce,  though  I  be  looser. 


80  then]  Mr.  Dodsley  reads,-o«(/.  ^^  ye]  you,  edit.  J569. 

*^  all  kind  of  trifles]  every  tryfuU,  1st  edit.         ^a  cheejiy]  chefe 
1st  edit.  84  thynketh]  thinks,  edit.  1569. 


THE  FOUR  P's.  69 


Is  here^^  nothynge  for  my  father  Palmer  ? 

Have  ye  nat  a  wanton  in  a  corner? 

For  all  your  walkyng  to  holy  places, 

By  cryste,  I  have  herde  of  as  straunge  cases. 

Who  lyveth  in  love,  and  love  wolde  wynne, 

Even  at  this  packe  he  must  begynne. 

Wherin*^  is  ryght  many  a  proper  token, 

Of  which  by  name  parte  shal  be  spoken  : 

Gloves,  pynnes,  combes,  glasses  unspottyd, 

Pomanders,  hookes,  and  lasses  knotted  s' ; 

Broches,  rynges,  and  all  manner  of  bedes  : 

Laces  88  rounde  and  flat  for  women's  hedes  ; 

®^  Nedyls,   threde,    thymbell,   shers,   and   all   suche 

knackes. 
Where  lovers  be,  no  suche  thynges  lackes  : 
Sypers^",  swathbondes  "',  rybandes,  and  sieve  laces, 
Gyrdyls,  knives,  purses,  and  pyncases. 

Poticary.  Do  women  bye  their  pyncases  of  you  ? 

Pedler.   Ye,  that  they  do  I  make  God  a  vow. 

Poticary.  So  mot  I  thryve  then  for  my  parte, 
I  beshrewe  thy  knave's  nakyd  herte, 
For  makynge  my  wifeys  pyncase  so  wyde. 
The  pynnes  fall  out,  they  cannat  abyde: 
Great  pynnes  she  must  have,  one  or  other  ; 
Yf  she  lese  one,  she  wyll  fynde  another. 
Wherin  I  fynde  cause  to  complayne ; 
New  pynnes  to  her  pleasure,  and  to  my  payne. 

•5  here]  there,  edit  1569. 

^  Wherin]  Where,  1st  edit.  ^7  knotted]  unknotted,  edit. 

1569. 

88  Laces]  Lace,  1st  edit. 

89  Needles,  thred,  thimbles,  and  such  other  knacks,  Edit.  1569. 
*"  Sypers]  i.  e.  Cyj'rus  ;  thin  stuff  of  which  women's  veils  were 

made.    So,  in  Shakspeare's  Wiiiter''s  Tale,  A.  4.  S.  3. 
"  Lawn  as  white  as  driven  snow, 
"  Cyprus  black  as  any  crow." 
Again,  in  Twelfth  Night: 

"  a  cypi-us,  not  a  bosom 

"  Hides  my  poor  heart."     S. 
'1  swathbondes]  i.  e.  rollers  in  which  infants  were  swuth'd.  So,  in 
Timon  of  Athens. 

"  Had  thou,  like  us  from  thy  first  swath,  &cc."     S. 


70 


THE  FOUR  P  S. 


Pardoner,  Syr,  ye  seme  wel  sene  in  women's  causes 
I  praye  you  tell  me,  what  causeth  this  : 
That  women  after  theyr  arysynge  ^^, 
Be  so  longe  in  theyr  apparelyng? 

Pedler.  Forsoth,  women  have  many  lettes, 
And  they  be  masked  in  many  nettes  : 
As  frontlettes  ^3,  fyllettes,  partlettes  ^4,  and  bracelettes ; 
And  then  theyr  bonettes  and  theyr  poynettes^^. 
By  these  lettes  and  nettes,  the  lette  is  suche. 
That  spede  is  small,  whan  haste  is  muche. 

Poticary.  Another  cause  why  they  come  natforwarde, 
Whiche  maketh  them  dayly  to  drawe  backwarde ; 
And  yet  9^  is  a  thynge  they  cannat  forbere; 
The  trymmynge  and  pynnynge  up  theyr  gere; 
Specyally  tlieyr  fydling-  with  the  tayle  pyn ; 
And  when  they  wolde  have  it  prickt^^  in, 
If  it  chaunce  to  double  in  the  clothe, 
^^Then  be  they^^  wode,  and  swere'°°  an  othe. 

^^  arysynge]  uprising,  edit.  1569. 

^^frontlettes]  Frontal  Fr.  A  frontlet,  or  forehead-band.  Cotgrave. 
A  frontlet  is  mentioned  as  part  of  a  woman's  dress,  in  Lyiy's 
Midas,  1592  :  "  Hoods,  frontlets,  wires,  cauls,  curling  irons,  peri- 
"  wigs,  bodkins,  fillets,hair  laces, ribbons,  rolls,  knotstrings,  glasses, 
&c. 
■^     See  also  Mr.  Steevens's  Note  on  Kijig  Lear,  A.  1.  S.  4. 

^*  partlettes]  Eufts  or  bands  for  women.  See  Glossary  to  Dou- 
glas's Translation  of  Virgil. 

^5  poynettes]  Little  bodkins  or  puncheons.  Cotgrave,  voce  poin- 
^onnet. 

^^  yet]  it,  edit.  1569. 
^7  prickt]   prycke,  1st  edit. 

^  Then  he  they  node]  IVode  signifies  mad,  furious,  or  violent.  So, 
in  Ascham's  Toxojjhiliis,  Bennet's  Edition,  4to.  p.  86.  "  How  will 
"  you  tliincke  that  such  furiousnesse,  with  ivovde  countenance,  and 
"  brenninge  eyes,  with  staringe  and  bragginge,  with  hart  redye  to 
"  leape  out  of  the  bellye  for  swellinge,  can  be  expressed  the  tenthe 
"  part  to  ti;e  uttermost." 

Churchyard's  Worthiness  of  Wales,  p.  103.  Evans's  Edition,  1776. 
"  It  flowes  with  winde,  although  no  rayne  there  bee, 
"  And  swelles  like  sea,  with  waves  and  foming  flood  : 
"  A  wonder  sure,  to  see  this  river  Dee, 
"  With  winde  alone,  to  waxe  so  wyld  and  ioood, 
"  Make  such  a  sturre,  as  water  would  be  mad, 
"  And  sbewe  such  life,  as  though  some  spreete  it  had.^* 
°^  they]  they  be,  edit.  1569.  ^^'^  nicer  el  swereth,  1st  edit. 


THE  FOUR  P's.  71 


Tyll  it  stande  ryght  they  wyll  not  forsake  it, 

Thus  though  it  may  not,  yet  vvolde  '°'  they  make  it. 

But  be  ye  sure  they  do  but  defarre  it ; 

For  when  they  wolde  make  it,  ofte  times  marre  it. 

But  prycke  them  and  pynne  them  as  nyche  *  as  ye  wyll, 

And  yet  wyli  they  loke  for  pynnynge  styll. 

So  that  I  durste  holde  with  you  a  joynt, 

Ye  shall  never  have  them  at  a  full  ^°^  point. 

Pedler.  Let  women's  maters  passe,  and  marke  myne : 
What  ever  theyr  poyntes  be,  these  poyntes  be  fyne. 
Wherfore  yf  ye  be  wyllynge  to  bye, 
Lay  downe  money,  come  ofF'°^  quyckely. 

Palmer.   Nay,  by  my  trouth,  we  be  lyke  fryers  ; 
We  are  but  beggars,  we  be  no  byers. 

Pardoner.   Syr,  ye  may  showe  your  ware  for  your 
mynde. 
But  I  thynke  ye  shall  no  profyte  fynde. 

Pedler.  Well,  though  this  journey  acquyte  no  coste, 
Yet  thynke  I  nat  my  labour  loste : 
For  by  the  fayth  of  my  body, 
I  lyke  ful  well  thys  company. 
Up  shall  this  packe,  for  it  is  playne 
I  came  not  hyther  al  for  gayne. 
Who  may  nat  play  one  day  in  a  weke, 
May  thynke  hys  thryfte  is  farre  to  seyke. 
Devyse  what  pastyme  that  ye  thynke  beste, 
And  make  ye  sure  to  fynde  me  prest  '^. 

'0'  wolde]  wyl,  edit.  1569. 

Neither  edition  reads  wyl,  nor  wil,  but  wolde.     C. 
•  The  oldest  copy  has  it  "  as  nyche  as  ye  wyll,"  and.  the  edition 
of  1569,  "  as  nie  as  ye  wilt,"  perhaps  the  meaning  is  "  as  much  as 
"  you  will."     C. 

ioijul]  fall,  1st  edit. 

lO^cowe  of]     i.    e.    pay  dowu.      See   Note    65   to    The    Wits, 
vol.  VIII.  p.  512. 

iOi  prest]   i.  e.  ready  ;  pret,  Fr.     So,  in  Casar  and  Pompey,  1607: 

"  ^Vhat  must  be,  must  be  ;  Caesar's  prest  for  all." 
See  a  Note  on  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  A.  1.  S.  1.  S. 
Again,  Churchyard's  Challenge,  1593,  p.  80. 

"  Then  shall  my  mouth,  my  muse,  my  pen  and  all, 
"  Be  prest  to  serve  at  each  good  subject's  call." 
Cynthia's  Revels,  A.  5.  S.  4. 

"  I  am  p'est  for  the  encounter." 


72  THE  FOUtt  P  S. 


Poticary.  Why?  be  ye  so  unyversail, 
That  ye  can  do  what  so  ever  ye  shall  ? 

Pedler.  Syr,  yf  ye  lyste  for  to  oppose  me; 
What  I  can  do,  then  shall  you  se. 

Poticary.  Then   tell   me   thys,    are    you    perfyt   in 

drynkynge  ? 
Pedler.  Perfyt  in  drynkynge,  as  may  be  wysht  by 

thynkynge. 
Poticary.  Then  after  your  drynking,  how  fall  ye  to 

wynking? 
Pedler.  Syr,  after  drynkynge,  whyle  the  shot^^^^  is 
tynkynge ; 
Some   hedes   be   swymmyng  ^^^,   but    myne    will    be 

synkyng, 
And  upon  drynkynge,  my  eyse  will  be  pynkynge  : 
For  wynkynge  to  drynkynge  is  alway  lynkynge. 

Poticary,  Then  drynke  and  slepe  you  can  well  do } 
But  yf  ye  were  desyred  therto, 
I  pray  you  tell  me,  can  you  synge  1 

Pedler.  Syr,  I  have  some  syght  in  syngynge. 
Poticary.  '°^But  is  your  brest  any  thynge  swete? 

10*  shot]  i.  e.  the  reckoning.  See  Mr.  Steevens's  Note  to  The 
First  Part  of  King  Henrii  IV.  A.  5.  S.  3. 

Again,  in  Churchyard's  Worthyiiess  of  Wales : 
"  Behold  besides,  a  further  thing  to  note, 
"  The  best  cheap  cheare  they  have  that  may  be  found ; 
"  The  shot  is  great  when  each  mans  pais  his  groate, 
"  If  all  alike  the  reckoning  runneth  round." 
^0''  swymmyng]   The  second  edition  reads,  swynking.     See  Note 
26  to  Gammer  Gurtons  Needle,  vol.  II. 

107  B^it  is  your  brest  any  thynge  sicete]  In  Sir  John  Hawkins's 
History  of  Musich,  vol.  III.  p.  466.  a  passage,  in  Tussers  Five  Hun- 
dred Points  of  Husbandry,  1680,  is  cited  ;  in  which  this  line  occurs  : 

"  The  better  hre^t,  the  lesser  rest ;" 
upon  which  he  makes  this  observation  :  "  In  singing  the  sound  is 
*•  originally  produced  by  the  action  of  the  lungs  ;  which  are  so 
"  essential  an  organ  in  this  respect,  that  to  have  a  good  breast  was 
"  formerly  a  common  periphrasis  to  denote  a  good  singer.  The 
"  Italians  make  use  of  the  terms  Voce  di  Petto,  and  Voce  di  Tata,  to 
"  signify  two  kinds  of  voice,  of  which  the  first  is  the  best.  In 
"  Shakespeare's  Comedy  of  Tuefth  Kight,  after  the  Clown,  is 
•'  asked  to  sing.  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek  says, 

"  By  my  troth,  the  fool  lias  an  excellent  breast." 
"  And  in  the  statutes  of  Stoke  College,  in  Suffolk,  founded  by 


THE  FOUR  P'S.  73 


Pedler,  What  ever  my  breste  be,  my  voyce  is  mete. 

Poticary.  That  answere  sheweth  you  a  ryght  syng- 
ynge  man. 
Now  what  is  your  wyli,  good  father,  than  ? 

Palmer.  What  helpeth  wyll,  where  is  no  skyli? 

Pardoner.  And  what  helpeth  sky  11,  where  is  no  wil^os  ? 

Poticary.  For  wyll  or  skyll  what  helpeth  it, 
Where  frowarde  knaves  be  lackynge  wit^o^? 
Leve  of  thys  curyosytie, 
And  who  that  lyste,  synge  after  me.    [Here  they  synge, 

Pedler.  Thys  lyketh  me  wel,  so  mot  I  the. 

Pardoner.  So  helpe  me  god,  it  lyketh  nat  me. 
Where  company  is  met  and  well  agreed, 
Good  pastynie  doth  ryght  well  in  dede. 
But  who  can  syt  in  dalyaunce, 
Men  syt  in  suche  a  variaunce? 
As  we  were  set,  or  no  ye  came  in, 
Whiche  stryfe  thys  man  dyd  fyrst  begynne; 
Allegynge  that  suche  men  as  use 
For  love  of  god,  and  not^^'  refuse 
On  fot  to  goo  from  place  to  place 
A  pylgrimage,  callynge  for  grace, 

'•  Parker,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  is  a  provision  in  these  words: 
"  Of  which  said  queristers,  after  their  breasts  are  changed  (i.  e. 
"  their  voices  broke,)  we  will  the  most  apt  of  wil  and  capacity  be 
"  helpen  with  exhibitions  of  forty  shillings,"  &c. 

See  also  the  Notes  of  Mr.  Warton  and  Mr.  Steevens  to  Twelfth 
Night,  A.  2.  S.  3. 

Again,  in  Middletou's  More  Dissemblers  besides  Women,  A.  1.  S.  1. 
Dondolo  after  a  song  by  his  Page,  says,  "  Oh  rich,  ravishing,  rare, 
"  and  inticing.     Well,  go  thy  ways,  for  as  sweet  a  brested  page  as 
"  ever  lay  at  his  master's  feet  in  a  truckle-bed." 
Women  beware  of  Women,  A.  3.  S.  2. 
Duke.  "  Yea  the  voice  too,  sirV 
Fab.      "  I  and  a  sweet  brest  too,  my  lord,  I  hope, 
"  Or  I  have  cast  away  my  money  wisely." 
Yet  in  the  very  next  line  of  the  text,  the  Pedlar  seems  to  take  a 
distinction  between  the  breast  and  the  i^oice,  which  induces  the 
Poticary  to  observe, 

"  That  answere  sheweth  you  a  ryght  syngynge  man."     C. 
108  wit]  wyt,  1st  edit.  los  i^'n^  wyll,  1st  edit. 

"0  or]  ere.     See  Note  48  to  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle,  vol.  II. 
1"  and  not]  not  and,  1st  edit. 


74  THE  FOUR  P'S. 


Shall  in  that  payne  with  penitence, 

Obtayne  discharge  of  conscyence  : 

Comparynge  that  lyfe  for  the  beste 

Enduccyon  to  your  endles  rest. 

Upon  these  wordes  *  our  mater  grewe  : 

For  yf  he  coulde  avow  them  true, 

As  good  to  be  a  gardener. 

As  for  to  be  a  pardoner. 

But  when  I  harde  hym  so  farre  wyde, 

I  then  aproched  and  replyed : 

Sayenge  this,  that  this^'"  indulgence, 

Havyng  the  foresaid  penitence, 

Dyschargeth  man  of  all  offence, 

With  muche  more  profyt  then  this  pretence. 

I  aske  but  two  pens  at  the  moste ; 

I  wys  this  is  nat  very  great  coste, 

And  from  ^'^  all  payne  without  dyspayre, 

My  soule  for  his  kepe  ^^^*  even  his  chayre, 

And  when  he  dyeth,  he  may  be  sure 

To  come  to  heven  even  at  pleasure. 

And  more  then  heven  he  can  "*  nat  get, 

How  farre  so  ever  he  lyste  to  jet. 

Then  is  hys  payne  more  then  hys  wit, 

To  walke  "^  to  heven,  syns  he  may  syt. 

Syr,  as  we  were  in  this  contencion. 

In  came  thys  daw  with  hys  invencyon ; 

Revelynge  us,  hymselfe  avauntynge, 

That  all  the  soules  to  heven  assendynge, 

Are  most  boundc  to  the  poticary, 

Bycause  he  helpeth  moste  men  to  dye 

Before  whiche  deth  he  sayeth  in  dede, 

No  soule  in  heven  can  have  hys  mede. 

Pedler.  Why,  do  poticaries  kyll  men  ? 

Poticary.  By  God,  men  say  so  now  and  then. 

Pedler.  And  I  thought  ye  wolde  nat  have  myt 
To  make  them  lyve  as  longe  as  ye  lyste. 

*  Hitherto  misprinted, 

"  Upon  these  twrhes  our  mfiter  grewe."     C 
"2  this]  his,  edit.  1.369.  from']  for,  edit.  1569. 

"3*  his  kepe]  for  to  keep  even  in  his  chair,  edit.  1569. 
"*  can]  may,  edit.  1569..  "^  ualke]  wake,  1st  edit. 


THE  FOUR  P's.  75 


Potkary.  As  longe  as  we  lyste  ?  nay,  as  longe  as 
they  can. 

Pecller.  So  myght  we  lyve  without  you  than. 

Potkary.  Ye,  but  yet  it  is''^  necessary 
For  to  have  a  poticary : 
For  when  ye  fele  your  conscyens  redy, 
I  can  sende  you  to  heven  "'^  quyckly. 
Wherfore  concernynge  our  mater  here, 
Above  these  twayne  I  am  best,  clere ; 
And  yf  ye  *  lyste  to  take  me  so, 
I  am  content:  you  and  no  mo 
Shal  be  our  judge,  as  in  thys  case, 
Whiche  of  us  thre  sliall  take  the  best  place. 

Pedler.  I  neyther  wyll  judge  the  beste  nor  worste; 
For  be  ye  bleste  or  be  ye  curste. 
Ye  know  it  is  no  whyt  my  sleyght, 
To  be  a  judge  in  maters  of  weyght. 
It  behoveth  no  pedlers  nor  proctours, 
To  take  on  them  judgemente  as  doctours  ; 
But  yf  your  myndes  be  onely  set 
To  worke  for  soule  helthe,  ye  be  well  met ; 
For  eche  of  you  somwhat  doth  showe 
That  soules  towaide  heven  by  you  doe  growe. 
Then  yf  ye  can  so  wel  agree, 
To  contynue  togyther  all  thre  ; 
And  all  you  thre  obay  one  wyll, 
Then  all  your  myndes  ye  may  fulfyll. 
As  yf  ye  came  all  to  one  man. 
Who  shulde  goo  pylgrymage"^  more  then  he  can  ? 
In  that  ye  palmer,  as  debite, 
May  clerely  dyscharde  hym,  parde ; 
And  for  all  other  syns,  ones  had  contryssyon. 
Your  pardons  geveth  hym  full  remyssyon. 


11^  yet  it  is]  it  is  very,  edit.  1 569. 
117  very}  added  in  edit.  1569. 


The  first  edition  reads, 

"  And  if  he  lyste  to  take  me  so." 
wHcli  is  altered  in  the  edit,  of  1569,  to  ye,  and  it  is  probably 
right.  C. 

118  ihulde  goo  pylgrymige]  should  go  on  pilgrimage,  edit.  1569. 


76  THE  FOUR  r'i$. 


And  then  ye  mayster  poticary, 

May  sende  hym  to  heven  by  and  by. 

Poticary.    Yf    he  taste  this  boxe    nye    aboute  the 
pryme, 
By  the  masse,  he  is  in  heven  or  even  songe  tyme. 
My  craft  is  suche,  that  I  can  ryght  well 
Sende  my  fryndes  to  heven,  and  myselfe  to  hell. 
But,  syrs,  marke  this  man,  for  he  is  wyse, 
*^9  Who  coulde  devyse  suche  a  devyse  : 
For  yf  we  thre  may  be  as  one, 
Then  be  we  ^^  lordes  everychone ; 
Betwene  us  all  coulde  nat  be  myste, 
To  save  the  soulcs  of  whome  we  lyste. 
But  for  good  order,  at  a  worde, 
Twayne  of  us  must  wayte  on  the  thyrde. 
And  unto  that  I  do  agree, 
'^'  Forbothe  you  twayne  shall  wayt  on  me. 

Pardoner,  What  chaunce  is  this,  that  suche  an  elf 
Commaund  two  knaves  besyde  himself? 
Nay,  nay,  ray  frende,  that  wyll  nat  be  ; 
I  am  to  good  to  wayt  on  the. 

Palmer.  By  our  lady,  and  I  wolde  be  loth 
To  wayt  on  the  better  of  you  both. 

Pedler.  Yet  be  ye  sewer,  for  all  thys  dout, 
This  waytynge  must  be  brought  about. 
Men  cannat   prosper  v^^ylefully  ledde ; 
All  thyng  decay  '^^  where  is  no  hedde. 
Wherfore  doutlesse,  marke  what  I  say. 
To  one  of  you  thre,  twayne  must  obey. 
And  synnes  ye  cannat  agree  in  voyce 
Who  shall  be  hed,  there  is  no  choyce 

>'9  Who]  Howe,  1st  edit. 

'-0  he  we]  were  we  as,  edit.  1569. 

^'■'i  For  bothe,  &c.]   First  edition  reads, 
For  botlie  you  twajnie  shall  wayt  on  me. 
"What  chaunce  is  this,  that  suche  an  elfe 
Commaunded  two  knaves  be  besyJe  himselfe. 

Both  editions  have  it  so,  and  the  alteration  was  made  by  Dods- 
ley  and  followed  by  Reed,  although  it  is  by  no  means  necessary  to 
the  due  imderstanding  of  the  passage.  C. 

122  things  decay]  thynge  decayed,  1st.  edit. 


THE  FOUR  P*S.  77 


But  to  devyse  some  maner  thynge, 

VVherin  ye  all  be  lyke  connynge ; 

And  in  the  same  who  can  do  beste, 

The  other  twayne  to  make  them  preste, 

In  every  thynge  of  hys  entente, 

'^  Holy  to  be  at  commaundement. 

And  now  have  I  founde  one  mastry,'^* 

That  ye  can  do  indyfFerently ; 

And  is  nother  sellynge  nor  byenge, 

But  evyn  onely  very  lyenge 

And  all  ye  thre  can  lye  as  well, 

As  can  the  falsest  devyll  in  hell. 

And  though  afore  ye  harde  me  grudge. 

In  greater  maters  to  be  your  judge, 

Yet  in  lyenge  I  can  some  skyll,* 

And  yf  I  shall  be  judge,  I  wyll. 

And  be  you  sure  without  flatery, 

Where  my  consciens  fyndeth  the  mastrye, 

Ther  shall  my  judgement  strayt  be  founde. 

Though  I  myght  wynne  a  thousande  pounde. 

Palmer.  Syr,  for  lyeng  though  I  can  do  it : 
Yet  am  I  loth  for  to  goo  to  it. 

Pedler.  Ye  have  no^*^  cause  to  fear,  be  bolde,'*^ 
For  ye  may  here  ^"'  lie  uncontrolde. 
And  ye  in  this  have  good  avauntage, 
For  lyeng  is  your  comen  usage. 
And  you  in  lyenge  be  well  spedde, 
For  all  your  craft  doth  stande  in  falshed. 

M3  Holy]  Holly,  1st  edit. 

124  one  mastry]  i.  e,  one  magisterium  ;  a  chyraical  term  expres- 
sive of  the  higliest  powers  of  transmutation,  and  sometimes  used 
for  any  masterly  performance.         S. 

Mastery  seems   here  used    in    the  sense    of    mystery  or  trade, 
which  is  derived  from  the  French  mestier  and  that  perhaps  from 
magisterium.     See  Warton  Hist.  Engl.  Poetry.  Til.  xxxvii.  C. 
*  Both  the  old  copies  agree  in  reading, 

"  Yet  in  lyenge,  I  can  some  skyll" 
which  has  hitherto  been  altered  to 

"  Yet  in  lyenge  I  can  boste  some  skyll." 
a  word  having  been  foisted  in  as  if  the  former  editors  were  not 
aware  that    "  I  can  some  skyll,"  was  a  phrase  of  the  time  and  per- 
fectly intelligible.  C. 

»-'  no]  not,  1st  edit.  ^^o  heiolde]  beholde,  edit.  1569. 

^26  may  here']  may  here,  1st  edit,  may  lie,  edit.  1569. 


78  THE  FOUR  P's. 


Ye  nede  nat  care  who  shall  begyn; 
For  eche  of  you  may  hope  to  wyn. 
Now  speke  all  thre  evyn  as  ye  fynde. 
Be  ye  agreed  to  folowe  my  mynde  ? 

Palmer.  Ye,  by  my  trouth,  I  am  contente. 

Pardoner.  Now,  in  good  fayth,  and  I  assente. 

Poticary.  If  I  denyed,  I  were  a  nody ; 
For  all  is  myne,  by  goddes  body, 

[Here  the  poticary  hoppeth. 

Palmer.  Here  were  a  hopper  to  hop  for  the  rynge ! 
But,  syr  '^^  this  gere  goth  nat  by  hoppynge. 

Poticary.  Syr,  in  thys  hoppynge  I  wyll  hop  so  well' 
That  my  tonge  shall  hop  better  ^'^^  then  my  hele  ; 
Upon  whiche  hoppvnge,  I  hope  and  nat  doute  it, 
To  hop"o  so,  that  ye  shall  hop'^*  without  it*. 

Palmer.  Syr,  I  wyll  neyther  boste  ne  brawll. 
But  take  suche  fortune  as  may  fall : 
And  if  ye  wynne  this  mastry, 
I  wyll  obaye  you  quietly  : 
And  sure  I  thynke  that  quietnesse 
In  any  man  is  great  rychesse. 
In  any  maner  company, 
To  rule  or  be  ruled  '^^  indifferently. 

Pardoner.  By  that  host   thou   seraest  a  begger  in 
dede, 
What  can  thy  quyetnesse  heipe  us  at  nede? 
Yf  we  shulde  starve,  thou  hast  nat,  I  thynke, 
One  peny  to  bye  us  one  potte  of  drynke. 
Nay  yf  richesse  myghte  rule  the  roste, 
Beholde  what  cause  I  have  to  boste : 
Lo,  here  be  '^^  pardons  halfe  a  dosyn. 
For  gostely  ryches  they  have  no  cosyn. 
And  more  over  to  me  they  brynge 
Sufficient  succour  for  my  lyvynge. 


"28  syr]  sirs,  edit.  1569.  '^g  better]  as  wel^  as,  1st  edit. 

^30  fwp]  hope,  1st  edit.  i3i /joj?]  hope,  1  st  edit. 

•  The  word  it  is  omitted  in  the  first  edition,  but  is  necessary  for 
the  rhyme.     C 

132  be  ruled']  to  be  rulde,  edit.  1569. 
'^^  here  be]  here  are,  edit.  1569. 


THE  FOUR  P*S.  79 


And  here  be  ^^^  relykes  of  suche  a  kynde, 

As  in  this  world  no  man  can  *35  fynde, 

Knele  downe  all  thre,  and  when  ye  leve  kyssynge, 

Who  lyste  to  offer  shall  have  my  blyssynge. 

Frendes,  here  shall  ye  se  evyn  anone, 

Of  all  Hallowes  the  blessyd  jaw  bone^^^, 

Kys  it  hardely  with  good  devocion. 

Poticary.  Thys  kysse  shall  brynge  us  muche  pro- 
mocyon. 
Fogh,  by  saynt  savyour  I  never  kyst  a  wars ; 
Ye  were  as  good  kysse  all  Hallowe's  ars; 
For  by  all  Hallowes,  yet  me  thynketh, 
That  all  Hallowe's  breth  stynketh. 

Palmer.   Ye  judge  all  Hallowe's  breth  unknowen  : 
Yf  any  breth  stynke,  it  is  your  owne. 

Poticary.    I    knowe   myne    owne    breth    from    all 
Hallowes, 
Or  els  it  were  tyme  to  kysse  the  galows. 

Pardoner.  Nay  syrs,  beholde,  here  may  ye  se 
The  great  toe  of  the  trinite, 
Who  to  thys  toe  any  money  voweth, 
And  ones  may  role  it  in  his  moueth, 
All  hys  lyfe  after,  I  undertake, 
>37  He  shall  never  be  vext  with  the  tooth  ake. 

Poticary.  I  praye  you  torne  that  relyke  aboute  : 
^^^  Either  the  Trinite  had  the  goute, 
Or  elles,  bycause  it  is  iii.  toes  in  one, 
God  made  it  asmuche  ^^'^  as  thre  toes  alone. 

Pardoner.  Well,   lette    that  passe,   and   loke   upon 
thys. 
Here  is  a  relyke  that  doth  nat  mys 
To  helpe  the  leste  as  well  as  the  moste : 
This  is  a  buttocke-bone  of  Pentecoste. 

1"  be]  are,  edit.  1569.  '^  caii]  may,  edit.  1569. 

'36  All  hallowes,  the  blessyd  jaw-hme]  All  hallowes  is  All  Saints. 
Mr.  Steeveus,  in  his  note  on  The  First  Part  of  King  Henry  IV,  A.  1. 
S.  2.  remarks  on  the  absurdity  of  appropriating  a  word  formed  to 
express  a  community  of  saints  to  a  particular  one  of  the  number. 

137  He  shall  nei.^er  be  vext  with  the  tooth  ake.]  He  shall  be  ryd  of  the 
toth  ake,  1st  edit. 

i***  Either]  Other,  1st  edit.  ^^^  asmuche]  muche,  1st  edit. 


80  THE  FOUR  P's. 


Poticary.  By  christe,  and  yet  for  all  your  boste, 
This  relyke  hath  be  shy  ten  the  roste. 

Pardoner.  Mark  well  thys  relyke  here  is  a  whipper, 
My  frends^^o  unfayned,  here^'^^  is  a  slypper 
Of  one  of  the  seven  slepers  be  sure  ^'**^. 
Doutlesse  thys  kys  shall  do  you  great  pleasure; 
For  all  these  two  dajes  it  shall  so  ease  you, 
That  none  other  savours  shall  displease  you. 

Poticary.  All  these  two  dayes  !  nay,  all  these  ^"^^  t^o 
yere; 
For  all  the  savours  that  may  come  here 
Can  be  no  worse  ;  for  at  a  worde, 
One  of  the  seven  slepers  trode  in  a  torde. 

Pedler.    Syr,  me    thynketh  your   devocyon  is   but 
smal. 

Pardoner.  Small !  mary  me  thynketh  he  hath  none 
at  all. 

Poticary.  What  the  devyll  care  I  what  ye  thinke  ? 
Shall  I  prayse  relykes  when  they  stynke  ? 

Pardoner.  Heer  is  an  eye  toth  of  the  great  Turke. 
Whose  eyes  be  ones  sette  on  thys  pece  of  worke, 
May  happely  lese  parte  of  his  eye-syght, 
But  nat  tyll  he  be  blynde  out  ryght. 

Poticary.  What  so  ever  any  other  man  seeth, 
I  have  no  devocyon  unto^^*  Turkes  teeth  : 
For  although  I  never  sawe  a  greter. 
Yet  me  thynketh  J  have  sene  many  better. 

^*ofreniks]  freend,  edit.  1569.  ^*^  here]  this,  1569. 

^''2  One  of  the  seven  slepers  be  sure.]  These  seven  slepers  are 
said  to  have  lived  at  Ephesus  in  the  time  of  the  emperor  Decian. 
Being  commanded  to  sacrifice  according  to  the  Pagan  manner, 
they  fled  to  a  cave  in  mount  Ceylon,  where  they  fell  asleep,  and 
continued  in  that  state  372  years,  as  is  asserted  by  some,  though 
according  te  others  only  208  years.  They  awoke  in  the  reign  of 
the  emperor  Theodosian,  who,  being  informed  of  this  extraordinary 
event,  came  from  Constantinople  to  see  them,  and  to  satisfy  himself 
of  the  truth  of  the  relation.  Having  communicated  to  him  the 
several  circumstances  of  their  case,  they  all,  as  the  Legenda  Aurea 
expresses  it,  "  enclyned  theyr  hedes  to  th'  erth,  and  rendred  their 
"  spyrites  at  the  commaundement  of  our  Lorde  Jesu  Cryst^  and  soo 
"  deyed."     &ee  Legenda  Aurea,  19Q. 

*«  these]  thys,  1st  edit.  ^^^  to,  1st  edit. 


THE  FOUR  P  S.  81 


Pardoner.  Here  is  a  box  ful  of  humble  bees, 
That  stonge  Eve  as  she  sat  on  her  knees, 
Tastynge  the  frute  to  her  forbydden. 
Who  kysseth  the  bees  within  this  hydden, 
Shall  have  as  muche  pardon  of  ryght, 
As  for  any  relyke  he  kyst  thys  nyght. 

Palmer,  Syr,  I  will  kysse  them  with  all  my  herte. 

Poticary.  Kysse  them  agayne,  and  take  my  parte. 
For  I  am  nat  woorthy  :  nay,  lette  be, 
Those  bees  that  stonge  Eve  shall  nat  stynge  me. 

Pardoner.  Good  frendes,  I  have  yet  here^^^  in  thys 
glas, 
Which  on  the  drynke  at  the  weddynge  was 
Of  Adam  and  Eve  undoutedly. 
If  ye  honor  this  relyke  devoutly. 
Although  ye  thurste  no  whyt  the  lesse. 
Yet  shall  ye  drynke  the  more,  doubtlesse: 
After  whyche  drynkynge  ye  shall  be  as  mete 
To  stande  on  your  hede  as  on  your  fete. 

Poticary.  Ye  mary,  now  I  con^^^  you  thanke  ^*^; 
In  presens  of  thys  the  rest  be  blanke. 
Wolde  God  thys  relyke  had  come  rather: 
Kysse  that  relyke  well,  good  father. 
Suche  is  the  payne  that  ye  palmers  take. 
To  kysse  the  pardon  bowle  for  the  drynke  sake. 
O  holy  yeste,  that  loketh  full  sowr  and  stale, 
For  goddes  body,  helpe  me  to  a  cuppe  of  ale. 
The  more  I  beholde  '^*  the,  the  more  I  thurste  : 
The  oftener  I  kysse  the,  the  more  lyke  to  burste. 
But  sins  I  kysse  the  so  devoutely, 
Hyre  me*  and  helpe  me  with  drynke  tyll  I  dye. 
What,  so  muche  prayeing  and  so  lytell  spede  ? 

Pardoner.  Ye,  for  God  knoweth  whan  it  is  nede 


145  yet,  edit.  1569.  ^*^  can,  1st  edit. 

1*7  con  vou  thayike.]     See  note  34  to  Gammer  Gurton's   Needle, 
vol.  II. 

1^  beholde]  see,  edit.  1569. 

*  Hyre  me  is  hear  me,  and  afterwards  we  meet  with  this  line, 
"  But  answered  you,  and  gevenyou  hyring."  C. 

VOL.  I.  G 


"^^IKi 


82 


THE  FOUR   r  S. 


To  sende  folkes  drynke  ;  but  by  saynt  Antony, 
I  wene  be  hath  sent  you  to  muche  all  redy. 

Poticary.  If  I  have  never  the  more  for  the, 
Then  be  thy  relykes  no  ryches  to  me  ; 
Nor  to  thy  selfe,  excepte  they  be 
More  benefycyall  then  I  can  se. 
Rycher  is  one  boxe  of  this  tryaclei'*^, 
Then  all  thy  relykes,  that  do  no  myrakell. 
If  thou  haddest  prayed  but  halfe  so  muche  to  me, 
As  I  have  prayed  to  thy  relykes  and  thC;, 
Nothynge  concernynge  myne  occupacion, 
But  streyght  shulde  have  wrought  one '*° operation  : 
And  as  in  value  I  pas  you  an  ace. 
So  here  lyeth  muche  rychesse  in  lytell  space. 
I  have  a  boxe  of  rebarb  here, 
Whiche  is  as  deynty  as  it  is  dere. 
^^'  So  helpe  me  god,  and  hollydam. 
Of  this  I  wolde  not  geve  a  dram 
To  the  beste  frende  I  have  in  Englande's  grounde, 
Though  he  wolde  give  me  xx  pounde. 
For  though  the  stomake  do  it  abhor, 
It  pourget  you  clene  from  the  color ; 
And  maketh  your  stomake  sore  to  waiter, 
That  ye  shall  never  come  to  the  halter. 

Pedler.  Then  is  that  medycyn  a  soverayn  thinge, 
To  preserve  a  man  from  hangynge. 

Poticary.  If  ye  wyll  taste  but  thys  crome  that  ye  see, 
If  ever  ye  be  hanged  never  truste  me. 
Here  have  I  diapompholicus, 
A  speciall  oyntement,  as  doctours  discuse. 
For  a  fistela  or  for  a  canker: 
152  Thys  oyntement  is  even  shot  anker ; 

'^^  tryacle]  theriaca,  a  remedy  against  poison.     Blount. 

The  word  triacle  is  also  not  unfrequently  used  for  a  balsam,  or 
indeed  any  kind  of  infallible  or  powerful  medicine.     C. 

150  cm]  in,  1st  edit.  isi  So]  Addition.  "" 

The  word  so  is  no  addition,  but  is  found  in  both  the  old  copies. 

C. 

"■■^  Thys  oyntement  is  even  shot  anker.]  I  should  suppose  we 
ought  to  read  sheet  anchor.  The  sheet  anchor  is  the  largest  belonging 
to  a  ship,  and  is  the  last  refuge  of  mariners  ;  for  when  that  fails  to 
take  hold  of  the  ground,  the  vessel  is  left  at  the  mercy   of  the 


THE  FOUR  P*S.  83 


For  this  medecyn  ^^^  helpeth  one  and  other, 

Or  bringeth  them  in  case  that  they  nede  no  other. 

Here  is  a  syrapus  de  Byzansis, 

A  lytell  thynge  is  inough  of  this ; 

For  even  the  weyghtof  one  scryppall, 

Shall  '5^  make  you  as  strong  as  a  cryppuU. 

Here  are  other,  as  diosfialios, 

Diagalanga  and  sticados, 

Blanka,  manna,  diospoliticon, 

Mercury  sublyme,  and  .netridaticon ; 

Pellitory,  and  arsefetita ; 

Cassy,  and  coUoquintita. 

These  be'^'  the  thynges  that  breke  all  stryfe 

Betwene  manne's  sycknes  and  his  lyfe. 

From  all  payne  these  shall  you  delever, 

And  set  you  even  at  reste  for  ever. 

Here  is  a  medecyn  no  mo  lyke  the  some ; 

Whiche  comenly  is  called  thus  by  name, 

Alikakabus  or  Alkakengy, 

A  goodly  thynge  for  dogges  that  be  '^"^  mangy. 

Suche  be  these  medycynes,  that  I  can 

Helpe  a  dogge  as  wel  as  a  man. 

Nat  one  thynge  here  partycularly. 

But  worketh  universally; 

For  it  doth  me  as  muche  good  when  I  sell  it, 

As  all  the  byers  that  taste  it,  or  smell  it. 

Now  syns  my  medycyns  be  so  speciall. 

And  in  one  operacion  so  generall, 

And  redy  to  worke  when  so  ever  they  shall. 

So  that  in  ryches  I  am  principall ; 

If  any  rewarde  may  entreat  ye, 

I  besech  your  masshyp  be  good  to  i"nie, 

And  ye  shall  have  a  boxe  of  marmelade, 

So  fyne  that  you  may  dyg  it  with  a  spade. 

Pedler.  Syr,  I  thankeyou,  but  your  rewarde 
Is  nat  the  thynge  that  I  regarde  : 

storm.     The  sheet  anchor  was  called  by  the  ancients,  anchora  sacra  ; 
and  by  the  French  maitresse  ancre.     S. 

'53  medecyn]  oyntment,  edit.  1569.         '^^  Shatf]  Wil,  edit.  1569. 

"*  fee]  are,  edit.  1569.  i50  ^g]  are,  edit.  1569. 

'*7  to]  unto,  edit.  1569. 


84  THE  FOUR  P's. 


I  muste  and  wyll  be  indifferent. 
Wherfore  precede  in  your  intente. 

Poticary.  Nowe  yf  1  wyst  thys  wysh  no  synne, 
I  wolde  to  God  I  myght  begynne. 

Pardoner.   I  am  content  that  thou  lye  fyrste. 

Palmer.  Even  so  am  I ;  now  ^^^gay  thy  vvorste. 
Now  let  us  here  of  all  thy  lyes, 
The  greatest  lye  thou  mayst  devyse. 
And  in  the  fewyst  wordes  thou  can. 

Poticanj.   Forsoth,  ye  be  ^*^  an  honest  man. 
Pedler.  There  sayde  ye  rnuche,  but  yet  no  lye. 

Pardoner.  Now  lye  ye  bothe,  by  our  lady. 
Thou  lyest  in  host  of  hys  honestie, 
And  he  hath  lyed  in  affyrminge  the. 

Poticary.  Yf  we  both  lye,  and  ye  say  true, 
Then  of  these  lies  your  parte  adew : 
And  if  ye  wyn,  make  none  avaunt, 
For  you  are  sure  of  one  yll  servaunte. 
You  may  perceyve  by  the  wordes  he  gave, 
He  taketh  your  mashyp  '^o  but  for  a  knave. 
But  who  tolde  truthe'^'  or  lyed  in  dede, 
That  wyll  I  knowe  or  "^^  we  procede. 
Syr,  after  that  I  fyrste  began 
To  prayseyou  for  an  honest  man, 
When  ye  affyrmed  it  for  no  lye^^^. 
Now,  by  your  '^'^  fayth,  speke  even  truely  ; 
Thought  ye  your  afFyrmacyion  true  ? 

Palmer.  Ye  mary,  for  I  wolde  ye  knewe, 
I  thynke  my  selfe  an  honest  man. 

Poticary.  What  thought  ye  in  the  contrary  than  ? 

Pardoner.  In  that  I  sayde  the  contrary, 
I  thynke  from  trouth  I  dyd  nat   vary. 

Poticary.  And  what  of  my  wordes? 

Pardoner.  I  thought  ye  lyed. 

Poticary.  And  so  thought  I,  by  god  that  dyed. 

"8  now]  and,  1st  edit.  '"  yehe\  you  are,  edit.  1569. 

'^°  your  ma&kyp]  i.  e.  your  mastership.     S. 

>®'  truthe]  true,  1st  edit.  '^'  orl  ere,  edit.  1569. 

1^3  for  to  lye]  for  no  lie,  edit.  1569. 

'«*  yourl  our,  1st  edit. 


THE  FOUR  p's.  85 


Nowe  have  you  twayne  eche  for  hym  selfe  layde. 

That  none  'es  hath  lyed,  but  bothe  true  sayd : 

And  of  us  twayne  none  hath  denyed, 

But  bothe  afFyrmed  that  I  have  lyed. 

Now  syns  bothe  ye  '^^  the  trouth  confes, 

'^7  How  that  I  lyed,  doo  bear  witnes. 

That  twain  of  us  may  soon  agree, 

And  that  the  Iyer  the  wynner  must  be, 

Who  coulde  provyde  suche  evydens. 

As  I  have  done  in  this  pretens? 

Me  thynketh  this  mater  sufficient 

To  cause  you  to  gyve  judgement; 

And  to  gyve  me  the  mastrye, 

For  ye  perceyve  these  knaves  can  nat  lye. 

Palmer.  Though  neyther*^^  of  us  as  yet  had  lyed. 
Yet  what  we  can  do  is  untryed  ; 
For  as  yet  we  have  devysed  nothynge, 
But  answered  you,  and  geven  you  hyring. 

Pedler.  Therfore  I  have  devysed  one  waye, 
Wherby  all  thre  your  mindes  may  saye. 
For  eche  of  you  one  tale  shall  tell, 
And  whiche  of  you  telleth  most  mervell, 
And  most  unlikest  '^^  to  be  true. 
Shall  most  prevayle,  what  ever  ensew. 

Poticary.  If  ye  be  set  on  mervaylynge, 
Then  shall  ye  here  a  mervaylouse  thynge. 
And  though  in  dede  all  be  nat  true, 
Yet  suer  the  most  parte  shall  be  new, 
I  dyd  a  cure  no  longer  ago. 
But  in  Anno  domini  millesimo, 
On  a  woman  yonge  and  so  fayre, 
That  never  have  I  sene  a  gayre. 
God  save  all  women  of '^^  that  lyknes. 
This  wanton  had  the  fallen  syknes, 

'^  jwne]  one,  edit.  ]569.  '^^  ye]  your,  1st  edit. 

'^7  How,  &c.]     First  edition  reads. 

And  that  we  both  my  lye  so  witnes, 

That  twayne  of  us  tlire  in  one  agree. 
1*58  neyther]   nother,  1st  edit.  ^''^  unlikest]  unlyke,  1st.  edit. 

1/0  of]  from,  1st  edit. 


86  THE  FOUR  P'S 


Whiche  by  dissent  came  lynyally, 

For  her  mother  had  it  naturally  : 

Wherfore  this  woman  to  recure, 

It  was  more  harde  ye  may  be  sure. 

But  though  I  boste  my  crafte  is  suche, 

That  in  suche  thynges  I  can  do  muche : 

How  ofte  she  fell  were  muche  to  reporte, 

But  her  hed  so  gydy  and  her  helys  so  shorte. 

That  with  the  twynglynge  of  an  eye, 

Downe  wolde  she  falle  evyn  by  and  by. 

But  or ''7'  she  wolde  aryse  agayne, 

I  shewed  muche  practyse  miiche  to  my  payne. 

For  the  tallest  man  within  thys  towne 

Could  172  nat  with  ease  have  broken  her  swowne. 

Although  for  lyfe  I  dyd  nat  doute  her, 

Yet  I  dyd  take  more  paines  ^'^^  about  her, 

Then  I  wolde  take  with  my  owne  syster. 

Syr,  at  the  last  I  gave  her  a  glyster  : 

^^*  I  thrust  a  thampyon  in  her  tewell, 

And  bad  her  kepe  it  for  a  Jewell ; 

But  I  knew  there  '''''**  it  was  to  heevy  to  cary. 

That  I  sure  was  it  wolde  nat  tary  : 


171  or]  ere,  edit.  1569. 

^"^'^  Could]  Shulde,  1st  edit.  ^"^^  paines]  payne,   1st  edit. 

'74  I  trust  a  thampyon  m  her  tewel]  The  allusion  is  to  gunnery, 
Thampion  (^tampon,  Fr.  a  bung,  cork,  or  plug  of  wood)  is  now  writ- 
ten tompion,  and  sij;-nifies  the  stopjier  with  which  the  mouths  of 
cannon  are  closed  up,  to  prevent  the  admission  of  rain,  or  sea- 
water,  whereby  their  charges  might  be  rendered  incapable  of  ser- 
vice.— A  teuel  (tuynii  or  tuyal,  Fr.)  is  a  pipe  ;  and  is  here  used  (for 
the  sake  of  continuing  the  metaphor)  for  hore  or  caliber.  Moxon, 
in  his  Mechanick  Exercises,  defines  the  tewel  to  be  that  pipe  in  a 
smith's  forge  into  which  the  nose  of  the  bellows  is  introduced  ;  and 
in  a  Ms.  fragment,  said  to  be  written  by  Sir  Francis  Drake,  con- 
cerning the  stores  of  one  of  the  ships  under  his  command,  the 
word  tewel  is  applied  to  a  gun.     S. 

In  Lambarde's  Dictionarium  Topographicum  S^  Historicufn,  p.  129. 
it  is  said,  "  It  happened  in  the  reigne  of  Quene  Marye,  that  the 
"  master  of  a  shippe  passinge  by  while  the  court  lay  theare,  and 
"  meaning  (as  the  manner  is)  with  sayle  and  shot  to  honour  the 
"  place,  unadvisedly  gave  fire  to  a  piece  charged  with  a  stone  in- 
*'  stede  of  a  tampion,  which  lightinge  on  the  Quene's  house 
"  ranne  throughe  a  chamber,  and  did  no  further  harme." 


THE  FOUR  p's.  87 


For  where  gonpouder  is  ones  fyerd, 

The  Thampyon  wyll  no  lenger  be  hyerd  : 

Whiche  was  well  sene  in  tyme  of  thys  chaunce, 

For  when  I  had  charged  this  ordynaunce, 

Sodeynly,  as  it  had  thonder'd, 

Even  at  a  clap  losed  her  bumberd  '7^. 

Now  marke,  for  here  begynneth  the  revell : 

This  thampion  flew  x  longe  myle  levell, 

To  a  fayre  castell  of  lyme  and  stone, 

For  strength  1  know  nat  suche  a  one, 

Whiche  stode  upon  a  hyll  full  hye, 

At  fote  wherof  a  ryver  ranne  bye, 

So  depe  tyll  chaunce  had  it  forbyden, 

^'^  Well  might  the  regent  there  have  ryden. 

But  when  this  thampyon  at  this  '''  castle  did  lyght, 

It  put  the  castel  so  farre  to  flyght, 

That  downe  they  came  eche  upon  other, 

No  stone  lefte  standynge  by  goddes  mother. 

But  rolled  downe  so  faste  the  hyll 

In  suche  a  nomber,  and  so  dyd  fyll 

From  botom  to  bryme,  from  shore  to  shore, 

Thys  foresayd  ryver,  so  depe  before. 

Our  antiquary  writes  like  one  unacquainted  with  his  subject, 
no  man,  I  beUeve,  ever  talked  ofchargiyig  a  gun  with  a  tamjnon  ; 
neither  would  the  said  tampion  (consisting  of  a  piece  of  hard  oak) 
have  done  much  less  mischief  than  a  stone,  if  pointed  from  the 
Thames  at  the  Queen's  Palace  at  Greenwich.    S. 

17<*  there']  Addition  in  the  2d  edit. 

l'?'^  biaiiherdi  A  piece  of  ordnance.     S. 

17G  \Ygii  mi/ght  the  regent  there  have  ruden]  The  Regent  was  one  of 
the  largest  ships  of  war  in  the  time  of  King  Henry  the  Eigh».h.  In 
the  fourth  y<=ar  of  his  reign,  Sir  Thomas  Knevet,  master  of  the 
horse,  and  Sir  John  Carew,  of  Devonshire,  were  appointed  captains 
of  her,  and  in  company  with  several  others  she  was  sent  to  fight 
the  French  fleet  near  Erest  haven.  An  action  accordingly  ensued, 
and  the  Kegent  grappled  with  a  French  Carrick,  which  would 
have  been  taken  had  not  a  gunner  on  board  the  vessel,  to  prevent 
her  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  English,  set  fire  to  the  }X)wder- 
room.  This  communicating  the  flames  to  both  ships,  they  shared 
the  same  fate  together,  being  both  burnt.  On  the  part  of  the 
French  900  men  were  lost ;  and  on  that  of  the  Englisli  more  than 
700.     See  Hall's  Chronicle,  tempore  Henry  VllE  fol.  21, 

1''  this]  on  thys  castell  lyght,  1st  edit. 


b8 


THE  FOUR  r  3. 


That  who  lyste  nowe  to  walke  thereto, 

May  wade  it  over  and  wet  no  shoo. 

So  was  thys  castell  layd  wyde  open, 

That  every  man  myght  se  the  token. 

But    in    a    good    houre    maye    these   wordes  ^'s    be 

spoken : 
After  the  thampyon  on  the  walles  was  wroken, 
And  pece  by  pece  in  peces  broken. 
And  she  delyvered,  with  suche  violens, 
Of  all  her  inconveniens, 
I  left  her  in  good  helth  and  luste ; 
And  so  she  doth  contynew,  I  truste. 

Pedler.  Syr,  in  your  cure  I  can  nothynge  tell;' 
But  to  your  ^^^  purpose  ye  have  sayd  w^ell. 

Pardoner.    Well,    syr,    then    marke    what    I    can 
say 
I  have  ben  a  pardoner  many  a  day. 
And  done  greater  *  cures  gostely. 
Then  ever  he  dyd  bodely. 
Namely  thys  one,  whiche  ye  shall  here, 
Of  one  departed  within  thys  seven  yere, 
A  frendc  of  myne,  and  lykewyse  I 
To  her  agayre  was  as  frendly: 
Who  fell  so  syke  so  sodeyiily, 
That  dede  she  was  even  by  and  by. 
And  never  spake  with  preste  nor  clerke. 
Nor  had  no  whyt  of  thys  holy  warke ; 
For  I  was  thens,  it  coulde  nat  be. 
Yet  harde  I  say  she  asked  for  me. 
But  when  I  bethought  me  howe  thys  chaunced, 
And  that  I  have  to  heven  avaunced 
So  many  soules  to  me  but  straungers. 
And  coude  nat  kepe  my  frende  from  daungers. 
But  she  to  dy  so  daungerously. 
For  her  soule  helth  especyally ; 


'78  these]  this,  edit.  1569. 
^TO  i/ojir]  our,  1st.  edit. 
*  The  edit,  of  1569  has  this  line, 
"  And  done  more  cures  ghostely." 


THE  FOUR  P'S.  89 


That  was  the  thynge  that  greved  me  soo, 

That  nothynge  could  release  my  woo, 

Tyll  I  had  tryed  even  out  of  hande, 

In  what  estate  her  soule  dyd  stande. 

For  whiche  tryall,  shorte  tale  to  make, 

I  toke  thys  journey  for  her  sake. 

Geve  ear,  for  here  begynneth  the  story  : 

From  hens  I  went  to  purgatory, 

And  toke  with  me  thys  gere  in  my  fyste, 

Wherby  I  may  do  there  what  I  lyste. 

I  knocked  and  was  let  in  quyckly: 

But  Lorde,  how  lowe  the  soules  made  curtesy; 

And  I  to  every  soule  agayne 

ISO  j)y(^  gyye  a  beck  them  to  retayne, 

And  axed  them  thys  question  than, 

If  that  the  soule  of  suche  a  woman 

Dyd  late  amonge  them  there  appere  ? 

Wherto  they  sayd,  she  came  nat  here 

Then  ferd  I  muche  it  was  nat  well; 

Alas,  thought  I,  she  is  in  hell; 

For  with  her  lyfe  I  was  so  acqueynted, 

That  sure  I  thought  she  was  nat  saynted. 

With  thys  it  chaunced  me  to  snese ; 

Christe  helpe,  quoth  a  soule  that  ley  for  his  fees. 

Those  wordes,  quoth  I,  thou  shalt  nat  lees  ; 

Then  with  these  pardons  of  all  degrees,  < 

I  payed  his  tole  and  set  hym  so  quyght, 

That  strayt  to  heaven  he  toke  his  fiyght, 

And  I  from  thens  to  hell  that  nyght, 

To  help  this  wo  nan  yf  I  myght; 

Nat  as  who  sayth  by  authorite, 

But  by  the  waye  of  entreate. 

And  fyrst  to  the  devyll  that  kept  the  gate 

I  came,  and  spake  after  this  rate. 

All  hayle,  syr  devyll,  and  made  lowe  curtesy: 

Welcome,  quoth  he,  thus  '^'  smillyngly. 

1^  Dyd  gyve  a  beck  them  to  retayne]  A  beck  among  other  signifi- 
cations has  that  of  a  salutation  with  the  head.  So,  in  Shaks- 
peare's  Timon  of  Athens  : 

"  A  serving  of  becks,  and  jutting  out  of  bums."  S. 

'^^    thus']  thys,  1st  edit. 


90  THE  FOUR  p's. 


He  knew  me  well,  and  I  at  laste 

Remembred  him  syns  longe  time  paste: 

For  as  good  happe  wolde  have  itchaunce, 

This  devyll  and  I  were  of  olde  acqueyntaunce ; 

182  -poT  oft,  in  the  play  of  corpus  Cristi, 

He  hath  playd  the  devyll  at  Coventry. 

By  his  acqueyntaunce  and  my  behavoure, 

He  shewed  to  me  ryght  frendly  favoure, 

And  to  make  my  returne  the  shorter, 

I  sayd  to  this  devyll,  good  mayster  porter, 

For  all  olde  love,  yf  it  lye  in  your  power, 

Helpe  me  to  speke  with  my  lorde  and  your. 

Be  sure,  quoth  he,  no  tongue  can  tell, 

What  tyme  thou  coudest  have  come  so  well : 

For  as  on  ^^^  thys  daye  lucyfer  fell, 

Whiche  is  our  festyvall  in  hell, 

Nothynge  unreasonable  craved  thys  day, 

That  shall  in  hell  have  any  nay. 

But  yet  be  ware  thou  come  natin, 

Tyll  tyme  thou  may  '*^*  thy  pasporte  wyn. 

Wherfore  stand  styll,  and  I  will  wyt'^^, 

Yf  I  can  get  thy  sa.ve  condy  t. 

He  taryed  nat,  but  shortely  gat  it 

Under  seale,  and  the  devyls  hande  at  it, 

In  ample  wyse,  as  ye  shall  here; 

Thus  it  began  :  Lucyfere, 

'^2  For  oft,  in  the  flay  of  corpus  Cristi, 

He  hath  playd  the  devyll  at  Coventry.]  "  Before  the  suppres- 
"  sion  of  the  monasteries,  this  city  (i.  e.  Coventry)  was  very 
"  famous  for  the  pageants  that  were  play'd  therein  upon  Con-pus 
"  Christi  day  (this  is  one  of  their  ancient  faires),  which  occasioning 
"  very  great  confluence  of  people  thither  from  far  and  near,  was  no 
"  small  henefit  thereto  ;  which  pageants  being  acted  with  mighty 
"  state  and  reverence  by  the  friers  of  this  house,  had  theaters  for 
"  the  several  scenes  very  large  and  high,  placed  upon  wheels,  and 
*'  drawn  to  all  the  eminent  parts  of  the  city,  for  the  better  advan  • 
"  tage  of  spectators,  and  contained  the  story  of  the  New  Testa- 
"  ment,  composed  in  old  English  rithrne,  as  appeareth  bj'  an 
"ancient Ms.  entitled,  Ludus  Corporis  Christi,  or  Ludus  Coventri(e, 
"  in  Bibl.  Cotton,  (sub  Effigie  Vesp.  D.  9)."  Dugdale's  War- 
wickshire, ■p.  116. 

'^3  as  on]  Add  in  the  2d  edit.         ^^^  may]  maist,  edit,  1569. 

185  wyt]  Mr.  Dodsley  has  write. 


THE  FOLTR  P's.  91 


By  the  power  of  god  chyefe  devyli  of  hell. 

To  all  the  devyls  that  there  do  dwell, 

And  every  of  them  we  sende  gretynge, 

Under  streyght  charge  and  commaundynge, 

That  they  aydynge  and  assystent  be 

To  suche  a  Pardoner,  and  named  me. 

So  that  he  may  at  lybertie 

Passe  save  without  any  ^se  jeopardy, 

Tyll  that  he  be  from  us  extyncte, 

And  clerely  out  of  belle's  precincte. 

And  hys  pardons  to  kepe  in  savegarde; 

We  wyll  they  lye  in  the  porter's  warde. 

Gevyn  in  the  fornes  of  our  palys, 

In  our  highe  courte  of  maters  of  malys, 

Suclie  a  day  and  yere  of  our  reyne. 

God  save  the  devyli,  quoth  I,  amain '^'. 

I  truste  thys  wrytynge  to  be  sure  : 

Then  put  thy  truste,  quod  he,  in  euer  ^ss 

Synsthou  art  sure  to  take  no  harme. 

Thys  devyli  and  I  walket  arme  in  arme, 

So  farre,  tyll  he  had  brought  me  thyther, 

Where  all  the  devylls  of  hell  togyther 

Stode  in  a  ray,  in  suche  apparell 

As  for  that  day  there  metely  fell. 

Theyr  homes  well  gylt,  theyr  clowes  full  clene, 

Theyr  taylles  wel  kempt,  and,  as  1  wene, 

With  sothery  ^^^  butter  theyr  bodyes  anoynted ; 

I  never  sawe  devylls  so  well  appoynted  ^"°. 

The  mayster  devyli  sat  in  his  jacket, 

And  all  the  soules  were  playinge  at  racket. 

None  other  rackettes  they  hadde  in  hande, 

Save  every  soule  a  good  fyre  brand ; 

Wherwith  they  played  so  pretely, 

That  Lucyfer  laughed  merely  ; 

'86  any]   hys,  1st  edit.  '^^  amain']  for  playne,  1st  edit. 

'88  euer]  cure,  edit.  1569. 

See  note  12  to  Ferrex  and  Porrex,  in  this  vol.     C. 

'^3  sothery.]     Sweet  or  fresh  made  from  the  old  word  sate. 

'9"  well  appointed]     See  Note  8  to  The  Ordinary,  vol.  X. 


92  THE  FOUR  P^S. 


And  all  the  resedew  of  the  feends'^', 
^92  Did  laugh  thereat  ful  wel  like  freends. 
But  of  my  frende  I  sawe  no  whyt, 
Nor  durst  not  axe  for  her  as  yet. 
Anone  all  this  rout  was  brought  in  silens, 
i\.nd  I  by  an  usher  brought  in  presens 
"^  Of  Lucyfer :  then  lowe,  as  wel  I  could, 
I"knelyd,  whiche  he  so  well  alovvde, 
That  thus  he  beckte,  and  by  saynt  Antony 
He  smyled  on  me  well  favourediy, 
Bendynge  his  browes  as  brode  as  barne  durres^ 
Shakynge  hys  eares  as  ruged  as  burres ; 
Rolynge  his  eyes  as  rOunde  as  two  bushels  ; 
Flastynge  the  fyre  out  of  his  nose  thryls; 
Gnashinge  hys  teeth  so  vaynglorously, 
That  me  thought  tyme  to  fall  to  flatery, 
Wherwith  I  tolde,  as  I  shall  tell. 

0  plesantpycture !     O  prince  of  hell ! 
Feutred"*in  fashyon  abominable, 
And  syns  that  is  inestimable 

For  me  to  prayse  the  worthyly, 

1  leve  of  prayse,  as  unworthy 

To  geve  the  prays,  besechynge  the 
To  heare  my  sewte,  and  then  to  be 
So  good  to  graunt  the  thynge  I  crave; 
And  to  be  shorte,  thys  wolde  I  have: 
The  souleof  one  which  hyther  is  flytted, 
Dehvered  ^^^  hens,  and  to  me  remitted. 
And  in  thys  doynge  though  al  be  nat  quyt, 
Yet  in  some  parte  I  shall  ^^'^  deserve  it, 

'^'  feends]  frendes,  1st  edit. 

'22  Did,  &c.]     First  edition  reads, 

Dyd  laugh  full  well  togyther  lyke  frendes. 
'"*  Of  Lxicifer,  &c.J     First  edition  reads, 

Tlien  to  Lucyfer  low  as  1  coude. 
'9*  Feutred    in    fashyon   ahominahle]        Feutrer,    Fr. — fairs    de 
/«ttrc— garnir  de  feutre.— To  stuff  ynthfelt.   Feutr^  d'herbe,  over- 
grown with  grass.     S. 

?9*  Delivered]  Deliver,  edit.  1569.        l^*  shaW]  wil,  edit.  1569. 


THE  FOUR  P's.  93 


As  thus :  I  am  a  pardoner, 

And  over  soules  as  controller, 

Thorough  out  the  erth  my  power  doth  stande, 

Where  many  a  soule  lyeth  on  my  hande, 

That  spede  in  maters  as  I  use  them, 

As  1  receyve  them  or  refuse  them. 

V/herby,  what  tyme  thy  pleasure  is, 

I  ^^' shall  requyte  any  part  of  thys, 

The  leste  devyll  here  that  can  come  thyther, 

Shall  chose  a  soule  and  brynge  him  hyther. 

Ho^'*^,  ho,  quoth  the  devyll,  we  are  well  pleased; 

What  is  hys  name  thou  woldesthave  eased? 

Nay,  quoth  I,  be  it  good  or  evyll. 

My  comynge  is  for  a  she  devyll. 

What  calste  her  quoth  he  thou  whoorson^*^? 

Forsooth  quoth  I  Margery  Coorson. 

Now  by  our  honour,  sayd  Lucyfer, 

No  devyll  in  hell  shall  withholde  her; 

And  yf  thou  woldest  have  twenty  mo, 

Wert  not  for  justyce,  they  shulde  goo. 

For  all  we  -""  devylls  within  thys  den 

Have  more  to  do  with  two  women, 

Then  with  all  the  charge  we  have  besyde  : 

Wherfore  yf  thou  our  frende  wyll  be  tryed, 

Aply  thy  pardons  to  women  so, 

That  unto  us  there  come  no  mo. 

To  do  my  beste  I  promysed  by  othe ; 

Which  I  have  kepte,  for  as  the  fayth  goth 

At  thys  day  ^',  to  heven  I  do  procure 

Ten  women  to  one  man,  be  sure. 

Then  of  Lucyfer  my  leve  I  toke. 

And  streyght  unto  the  mayster  coke 

I  was  hadde,  into  the  kechyn. 

For  Margerie's  offyce  was  therin. 

'87  Ye]  I,  1st  edit. 

And  properly,  the  meaning  being  that  the  Pardoner  is  ready  to 
requite  part  of  this  favour  whenever  it  shall  be  tae  devil's  pleasure. 

C. 
'•*  Ho]  Nowe,  1st  edit.  '^^  whoasoTi]  horyson,  1st  edit. 

200  ^yg-j  ti^e,  edit.  1569.  201  ^-ay]  dayes,  1st  edit. 


94  THE  FOUR  P*S. 


All  thyngs  handled  there  discretely, 

For  every  soule  bereth  oiFyce  metely  : 

Woiche  myght  be  sena  to  se  her  syt 

So  bysely  turnynge  of  the  spyt. 

For  many  a  spyt  here  hath  she  turned, 

And  many  a  good  spyt  hath  she  burned : 

And  many  a  spyt  ful  both  hath  rosted, 

Before  the  meat  coulde  be  halfe  rosted 

And  or*°-  the  meate  were  halfe  rosted  in  dede, 

I  toke  her  then  fro  the  spyL  with  spede. 

But  when  she  sawe  thys  brought  to  pas, 

To  tell  the  joy  wherin  she  was  ; 

And  of  all  the  devylls,  for  joy  how  they 

Did  rore  at  her  delyvery, 

And  how  the  cheynes  in  hell  dyd  rynge, 

And  how  all  the  soules  therin  dyd  syuge  ; 

And  how  we  were  brought  to  the  gate, 

And  how  we  toke  our  ieve  therat, 

Be  suer  lacke  of  tyme  sufFeryth  nat 

To  reherse  the  xx  parte  of  that, 

Wherfore  thys  tale  to  conclude  brevely. 

Thys  woman  thanked  me  chyefly. 

That  she  was  ryd  of  thys  endles  deth, 

And  so  we  departed  on  newmarket  heth. 

And  yf  that  any  man  do  mynde  her, 

Who  lyste  to  seke  her,  there  shalle  he  fynde  her, 

Pedler.  Syr,  ye  have  sought  her  wunderous^°'  well, 
And  where  ye  founde  her  as  ye  tell, 
To  here  the  chaunce  ye  had  '^  in  hell, 
I  finde  ye  were  in  great  peril  "°\ 

Palmer.  His  tale  is  all  muche  perilous ^°^; 
But  parte  is  muche  more  mervaylous : 
As  where  he  sayde  the  devylls  complayne, 
That  women  put  them  to  suche  payne. 
Be  theyr  condicions  so  croked  and  crabbed, 
Frowardly  fashonde,  so  wayward  and  wrabbed^^^, 

^0-  or]  ere. 

^^^  wiinderous]  wonders,  1st  edit.  ^o*  had]  founde,  1st  edit. 

'^^  peril]  parell,  1st  edit.  ^^  peri bm]  ]^dj:ellouiS,  1st  edit. 

20'  wayioard  ami  wrabbed]  I  suppose  wrabbed  to  be  a  word  coined 
for  the  sake  of  rhime.     S. 


TILE  FOUR  P'S.  95 


So  farre  in  devision,  and  sturrynge  suche  stryfe, 

That  all  the  devylls  be  wery  of  theyr  life. 

This«o«  in  effect  he  tolde  for  ^^^  trueth. 

Whereby  muche  marveil  to  rae  ensueth, 

That  women  in  hell  suche  shrewes  can  be, 

And  here  so  gentyll  as  farre  as  I  se. 

Yet  have  I  sene  many  a  myle, 

And  many  a  woman  in  the  whyle. 

Nat  one  good  cytye,  towne  nor  borough 

In  cristendom,  but  I  have  ben  thorough, 

And  this  I  wolde  ye  shulde  understande, 

I  have  sene  women  v  hundred  thousande : 

And  oft  with  them  have  longe  tyme  taried  *'^ 

Yet  in  all  places  where  I  have  ben, 

Of  all  the  women  that  1  have  sene, 

I  never  sawe  nor  knewe  in  my  conscyens. 

Any  one  woman  out  of  paciens, 

Poticary.  By  the  masse,  there  is  a  great  lye. 

Pardoner.  I  never  harde  a  greater,  by  our  Lady 

Pedler.  A  greater!  nay,  knowe  ye  any  so  great? 

Palmer.  Syr,  whether  that  I  lose  or  get. 
For  my  parte  judgement  shall  be  prayd. 

Pardoner.  And  I  desyer  as  he  hath  sayd. 

Poticary.  Procede,  and  ye  shall  be  obeyed. 

Pedler.  Then  shall  nat  judgment  be  delayd, 
Of  all  these  thre  yf  eche  mannes  tale 
In  Poole's  churche  yarde  were  set  on  sale, 
In  some  mannes  hande  that  hath  the  sleyghte, 
He  shulde  sure  sell  these  tales  byweyght: 
For  as  they  wey,  so  be  they  worth, 
But  whiche  weyth  beste,  to  that  now  forth. 
Syr,  all  the  tale  that  ye  dyd  tell, 
I  here  in  mynde,  and  yours  as  well : 
And  as  ye  sawe  the  mater  metely, 
So  lyed  ye  bothe  well  and  discretely 

208  Tliis]  Thus,  edit.  1569.  p^for]  of,  edit.  1569. 

210  taried]  maryed,  1st  edit.  It  will  "be  observed  that  there  is  no 
rhime  to  the  line 

"  And  oft  with  them  have  long  tyme  taried" 
and  it  is  probable  that  a  line  has  here  dropped  out  ending  with 
maryed,  which  is  the  word  in  the  oldest  of  the  two  editions.  C. 


M 


THE  FOUR  P  S. 


Yet  were  your  lyes  with  the  lest,  truste  me ; 

For  yf  ye  had  said  ye  had  made  fle 

Ten  tampyons  out  of  ten  women's  tayles, 

Ten  tymes  ten  myle  to  ten  castles  or  jayles, 

And  fild  ten  ryvers  ten  tymes  so  depe, 

As  ten  of  that  whiche  your  castell  stones  dyd  kepe  : 

Or  yf  ye  ten  tymes  had  bodely 

^"  Fet  ten  soules  out  of  purgatory  ; 

And  ten  tymes  so  many  out  of  hell : 

Yet,  by  these  ten  bonnes  I  coulde  right  well, 

Ten  tymes  sooner  all  that  have  beleved, 

Then  the  tenth  parte  of  that  he  hath  meved 

Poticary.  Two  knaves  before  i,  lacketh  ii  knaves  of 
fyve: 
Then  one,  and  then  one,  and  bothe  knaves  alyve. 
Then  two,  and  then  two,  and  thre  at  a  cast, 
Thou  knave,  and  thou  knave,  and  thou  knave  at  laste. 
Nay  knave,  yf  ye  try  me  by  nomber, 
I  wyll  as  knavishly  you  accomber^^^ 
Your  mynde  is  all  on  your  pryvy  tythe. 
For  all  in  ten  me  thynketh  your  wyt  lythe. 
^^^Now  ten  tymes  I  beseche  hym  that  hye  syttes, 
Thy  wives  x  commaundementes  may  serch  thy  v  wittes. 
Then  ten  of  my  tordes  in  ten  of  thy  tech. 
And  ten  on  thy  nose,  whiche  every  man  seth ; 
And  twenlie  tymes  ten,  this  wyshe  I  wolde 
That  thou  haddest  been  hanged  at  ten  yere  olde  : 
For  thou  goest  about  to  make  me  a  slave  ; 
I  wyll  thou  knowe  yf  I  am  a  gentleman  ^^^  knave. 

2n  Fet  ten  soules,  &c.]  i.  e.  fetcb'd.  The  word  is  used  by  Tusser, 
Spenser,  and  Shakspeare.  S. 

See  also  Note  73  to  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle,  vol.  II. 

,"12  accomber]  overcome.     See  Note  *  on  God's  Promises,  p.  21. 

1213  ]\Tow  ten  tymes  I  beseech  hum  that  hye  syttes, 

^  Thy  wives  ten  commaundemeTites  may  serch  thy  five  loyttes.] 
So  Eleanor,  in  The  Second  Fart  of  King  Henry  VI.  A.l.  S.  3.  says, 
"  I'd  set  my  ten  commandments  in  your  face." 

Ten  Commandments  seem  to  have  been  cant  terms  for  tlie  nails  of 
the  hands. 

See  also  Mr.  Steevens's  Note  on  the  above  passage. 

2'*  gentleman']  gentle,  edit.  1569. 


THE  FOUR  P'S.  97 


And  here  is  an  other  shall  take  my  parte. 

Pardoner.  Nay  fyrste  I  beshrew  your  knave's  herte, 
Or  I  take  parte  in  your  knavery : 
I  wyll  speak  fair,  by  our^^^  lady, 
Syr,  I  beseeche  your  mashyp  to  be 
As  good  as  ye  can^^^  be  unto  me. 

Pedler.   I  vvolde  be  glade  to  do  you  good ; 
And  hym  also,  be  he  never  so  wood^^^*. 
But  dout  you  not  I  wyll  now  do 
The  thynge  my  consciens  ledeth  me  to. 
Both  your  tales  I  take  farre  unpossyble, 
Yet  take  I  his  farther  incredyble. 
Not  only  the  thynge  itselfe  alloweth  it. 
But  also  the  boldenes  therof  avoweth  it. 
I  knowe  nat  where  your  tale  to  trye ; 
Nor  yours,  but  in  hell  or  purgatorye. 
But  hys  boldnes  hath  faced  a  lye, 
That  may  be  tryed  evyn  in  thys  companye. 
As  yf  ye  lyste  to  take  thys  order, 
Amonge  the  women  in  thys  border, 
Take  thre  of  the  yongest,  and  thre  of  the  oldest, 
Thre  of  the  hotest,  and  thre  of  the  coldest, 
Thre  of  the  wysest,  and  thre  of  the  shrewdest, 
Thre  of  the  chastest,  and  thre  of  the  lewdest -^^ 
Thre  of  the  lowest,  and  thre  of  the  hyest, 
Thre  of  the  farthest,  and  thre  of  the  nyest, 
Thre  of  the  fayrest,  and  thre  of  the  maddest, 
Thre  of  the  foulest,  and  thre  of  the  saddest. 
And  when  all  these  threes  be  had  asonder 
Of  eche  thre,  tw^o  justly  by  nomber 
Shall  be  founde  shrewes,  excepte  thys  fall, 
That  ye  hap  to  fynde  them  shrewes  all. 
Hymselfe  for  trouth  all  this  doth  knowe. 
And  oft  hath  tryed  some  of  thys  rowe  ; 
And  yet  he  swereth  by  his  consciens, 
He  never  saw  woman  breke  patiens. 

^'*  our'\  one,  1st  edit. 

^'8  ye  can]  you  may,  edit.  1569, 

^'O*  wood]  mad,  furious.     See  Note  98, 

^'"^  Addition  in  the  second  edition. 

VOL,  I.  H 


98  THE  FOUR  P'S. 


Wherfore  consydered  with  true  entente, 

Hys  lye  to  be  so  evident. 

And  to  appere  so  evydently, 

That  both  you  afFyrmed  it  a  ly ; 

And  that  my  consciens  so  depely, 

So  depe  hath  sought  thys  thynge  to  try, 

And  tryed  it  with  mynde  indyfFerent ; 

Thus  I  awarde  by  way  of  judgement: 

Of  all  the  lies  ye  all  have  spent, 

His  lye  to  be  most  excellent. 

Palmer.  Syr,  though  ye  were  bounde  of  equyte 
To  do  as  ye  have  done  to  me, 
Yet  do  I  thanke  you  of  your  payne, 
And  wyll  requyte  some  parte  agayne. 

Pardoner.  Mary,  syr.,  ye  can  no  les  do. 
But  thanke  hym  asmuche  as  it  cometh  to  ; 
And  so  wyll  1  do  for  my  parte. 
Now  a  vengeaunce  on  thy  knave's  hearte, 
I  never  knewe  a  pedler  a  judge  before, 
Nor  never  wyll  truste  pedlynge  knave  more. 
What  doest  thou  there,  thou  horson  nody  ? 

Poticary.  By  the  masse,  lerne  to  make  curtesy, 
Curtesy  before,  and  curtesy  behynde  hym, 
And  then  on  eche  syde,  the  devyll  blynde  hym. 
Nay,  when  ye-*^  have  it  perfytly, 
Ye  shall  have  the  devyll  and  all  of  curtesy : 
But  it  is  nat  sone  lerned,  gentle  ^^^  brother, 
One  knave  to  make  curtesy  to  another. 
Yet  when  I  am  angry,  that  is  the  worste, 
I  shall  call  my  master  knave  at  the  fyrste. 

Palmer.  Then  wolde  some  mayster  perhappes  clowt 

ye, 

But  as  for  me  ye  nede  not  doute  ye  ; 
For  I  had  lever  220  be  without  ye, 
Then  have  suche  besynesse  aboute  ye. 


*»8  ye]  I,  1st  edit. 

-'^  gentle]  Addition  in  the  second  edition. 

=*2o  lever]  rather,  edit.  1569. 


THE  FOUR  P  S, 


99 


Poticary.  So  helpe  me  god,  so  were  ye  better ; 
What  shulde  a  begger  be  a  jetter--^? 
It  were  no  whyt  your  honestie, 
To  have  us  twain  jet  after  ye. 

Pardoner.  Syr,  be  you  sure  he  telleth  you  true, 
Yf  we  shulde  wayt  thys  wolde  ensew  : 
It  wolde  be  sayd,  truste  me  at  a  worde, 
Two  knaves  made*"  curtesy  to  the  thyrde. 

Pedler.  Now,  by  my  trouth,  to  speke  my  mynde, 
Syns  they  be  so  loth  to  be  assyned  ^"^. 
To  let  them  lose  I  thynke  it  beste. 
And  so  shall  ye  lyve  the  better'^*  in  rest. 

Palmer.  Syr,  I  am  nat  on  them  so  fonde, 
To  compell  them  to  kepe  theyr  bonde  ; 
And  syns  ye  lyste  nat  to  wayte  on  me, 
I  clerely  of  waytinge  do  dyscharge  ye. 

Pardoner.  Marry,  syr,  I  hertely  thanke  you. 

Poticary.  "^  And  likewise  I,  to  God  I  vow. 

Pedler.  Now  be  ye  all  evyn  as  ye  begoon  ; 
No  man  hath  loste,  nor  no  man  hath  woon. 
Yet  in  the  debate  wherewith  ye  began, 
By  waye  of  advyce  I  wyll  speke  as  I  can. 
I  doo  perceyve  that  pylgrymage 
Is  chyefe  '^^  the  thynge  ye  have  in  usage ; 
Wherto  in  effect,  for  the  love  of  Chryst, 
Ye  have,  or  shulde  have  been  entyst : 
And  who  so  doth  with  suche  intent, 
Doth  well  declare  hys  tyme  well  spent. 

^'  ajetter]  i.  e.  one  who  struts  or  agitates  his  body  in  a  pompous 
manner.     So,  in  Shakespeare's  Twelfth  Night, 

"  How  he  Jets  under  his  advanced  plumes."     S. 
See  also  Note  23  to  Edward  11.  vol.  II. 

222  made]  make,  edit.  1569. 

223  assyned]  1  believe  we  should  read  affind,  i.  e.  joined  by  affi- 
,  nity  to  each  other.     So,  in  Othelb, 

"  If  partially  afm'd  or  leagued  in  office."     S. 
It  probably  means  assigned  to  the  Palmer  to  wait  on  him,  which 
was  part  of  the  agreement  before  the  contention  began.     C. 

224  better']  beste,  1st  edit. 

223  And  likewise  I,  Sec]  First  edition  reads. 
And  I  lykewyse,  I  make  God  a  vowe. 
226  chyefe]  cheefest,  edit.  1569. 


100  THE  FOUR  P*S. 


And  so  do  ye  ia  your  pretence, 

If  ye  procure  thus"^  indulgence 

Unto  your  neyghbours  charytably, 

For  love  of  them  in  god  onely. 

All  thys  may  be  ryght  well  applyed 

To  shew  ^"^  you  both  well  occupyed: 

For  though  ye  walke  nat  bothe  one  waye, 

Yet  walkynge  thus,  thys  dare  I  saye, 

That  bothe  your  walkes  come  to  one^"^  end  ; 

And  so  for  all  that  do  pretende 

By  ayde  of  goddes  grace  to  ensewe 

Any  maner  kynde  of  vertiie  ; 

As  some,  great  almyse  for  to  gyve  : 

Some,  in  wyllfull  povertie  to  lyve : 

Som.e,  to  make  hye  wayes  and  suche  lyke  ^^  warkes, 

And  some,  to  mayntaine  prestes  and  clarkes, 

To  synge  and  praye  foi  soule  departed  : 

These,  with  all  other  vertues  well  marked, 

Although  they  be  of  sondry  kyndes. 

Yet  be  they  nat  used  with  sondry  myndes. 

But  as  god  otdy  doth  all  those  move, 

So  every  man  onely  for  his  love, 

With  love  and  drecl  obedeindy 

Worketh  in  these  vertues  unyformly. 

Thus  every  vertue  yf  we  lyste  to  scan, 

Is  pleasaunt  to  god  and  thankfull  to  man. 

And  who  that  by  grace  of  the  Holy  Goste 

To  any  one  vertue  is  moved  moste. 

That  man  by  that  grace  that  one  apply, 

And  therin  serve  god  moste  plenty  fully  "^'^ 

Yet  nat  that  one  so  farre  wyde  to  wreste, 

So  lykynge  the  same  to  myslyke  the  reste. 

For  who  so  wresteth  his  worke  is  in  vayne; 

And  even  in  that  case  I  perceyve  you  twayne, 

Lykynge  your  vertue  in  suche  wyse. 

That  eche  other's  vertue  ye  doo  dyspyse. 

m  thus]  this,  edit.  1569.  ^^  shew]  shewell,  1st  edit. 

229  one]  on,  edit.  1569.  -^^  like]  other,  let  edit. 

1131  plentyfully]  plenteously,  edit.  1569. 


THE  FOUR  P  S. 


101 


Who  walketh  thys  way  for  god  wolde  fynde  hym, 
The  farther  they  seke  hym,  the  farther  behyiide  hym- 
One  kynde  of  vertue  to  dyspyse  another, 
Is  lyke  as  the  syster  myght  hange  the  brother. 

Poticary.  "^^  For  fere  lest  suche  parels  *  to  me  myght 
fall, 
I  thanke  god  I  use  no  vertue  at  all. 

Pedler.  That  is  of  all  the  very  worste  waye ; 
For  more  harde  it  is,  as  I  have  harde  saye, 
To  begynne  vertue  where  none  is  pretended, 
Then  where  it  is  begonne  th'  abuse  to  be  mended. 
How  be  it,  ye  be^^-'  nat  all  to  begynne. 
One  syne  of  vertue  ye  are  entred  in  : 
As  thys,  I  suppose  ye  did  saye  true 
In  that  ye  sayd  ye  use  no  vertue. 
In  the  whiche  wordes  T  dare  well  reporte, 
You  are  well  beloved  of  all  thys  sorte. 
By  your  raylynge  here  openly 
At  pardons  and  relyques  so  leudly. 

Poticary.  In  that  I  thinke  my  faute  nat  great; 
For  all  that  he  hath  I  knowe  counterfete. 

Pedler.  For  his,  and  all  other  that  ye  knowe  fayned, 
You  be  not^**  counceled  nor  constrayned 
To  any  suche  thynge  in  any  suche  case, 
To  give  any  reverence  in  any  suche  place. 
But  where  ye  dout,  the  truthe  nat  knowynge, 
Belevynge  the  beste,  good  may  be  growynge. 
In  judgynge  the  beste,  no  harme  at  the  leste; 
In  judging  the  worste,  no  good  at  the  beste. 
But  beste  in  these  thynges  it  semeth  to  me. 
To  make^^^  no  judgement  upon  ye; 
But  -cs  the  churche  doth  judge  or  take  them, 
So  do  ye  receyve  or  forsake  them. 
And  so  be  you  sure  ye  cannat  erre, 
But  may  be  a  frutfull  folower. 

^^-  For  fere  lest  suche  parels  to  me  myght  fall.]  Perhaps  by  parels  is 
meant  pareilles,  Fr.  i.  e.  things  similar,  or  parels.  Or  it  may  be 
be  only  a  corruption  oi perils,     S. 

*  i.  e.  perils.     See  notes  205  and  206.     C. 

2«6e]   are,  edit.  1569.  "i^*  not]  nother,  1  st  edit. 

•■^35  make]   take,  edit.  1569. 


102  THE  FOUR  P*S. 


Poticanj.  Go  ye  before  and  as  I  am  true  man, 
1  wyll  iblovv  as  fast  as  I  can. 

Pardoner.  And  so  wyll  I,  for  he  hath  sayd  so  well, 
Reason  wolde  we  shulde  folowe  hys  counsell. 

Palmer.  Then,  to  our  reason,  god  gyve  us  his  grace, 
That  we  may  folowe  with  fayth  so  fermely 
Hys  commaundements,  that  we  may  purchace 
Hys  love,  and  so  consequently 
To  byleve  hys  churche,  faste  and  faythfully  ; 
So  that  we  may,  accordynge  to  his  promyse. 
Be  kepte  out  of  errour  in  any  wyse. 
And  all  that  hath  scapet^^  us  here  by  neglygence, 
We  clerely  revoke  and  forsake  it ; 
To  passe  the  tyme  in  thys  without  offence, 
Was  the  cause  why  the  maker  dyd  make  it; 
And  so  we  humbly  beseche  you  to  take  it, 
Besechynge  our  lorde  to  prosper  you  all, 
In  the  fayth  of  his  churche  universail. 

^^  scapet]  escapte,  edit.  1569o 


103 


EDITIONS. 

(1.)  ''  The  playe  called  the  foure  PP.  A  newe  and 
**  a  very  mery  enterlude  of  A  Palmer,  A  Pardoner,  A 
"  Potycary,  A  Pedler.  Made  by  John  Heewood. 
"  Imprynted  at  London  in  Fletestrete,  at  the  sygne  of 
"  the  George,  by  Wyllyam  Myddylton." 

This  Edition  must  have  been  printed  at  least  as  early 
as  the  year  1547,  at  which  time  William  Middleton 
either  died  or  retired  from  business.  See  Ames's 
Typographical  Antiquities,  p.  218,  258. 

(2.)  '*  The  Play  called  the  Foure  P.  A  very  mery 
"  Enterlude  of  A  Palmer,  A  Pardoner,  A  Poticary,  A 
"  Pedler.  Imprinted  at  London,  at  the  long  Shop 
"  adjoyning  unto  S.  Mildreds  Churche  in  the  Pultrie, 
"  by  John  Allde,  Anno  Domini  1569,  Septembris  14." 

Both  these  Editions  are  in  the  Collection  of  Mr. 
Garrick. 


FERREX  AND  PORREX. 


Thomas  Sackville,  Lord  Buckhurst,  was  related  to 
Queen  Elizabeth  by  her  mother  Ann  Boleyn.  He  was 
born  in  15:56,*  and  educated  at  Hart-Hall,  in  the 
University  of  Oxford ;  from  whence  he  went  to  Cam- 
bridge, and  afterwards  to  the  Temple.  In  his  younger 
days  he  travelled  mto  France  and  Italy ;  and  at  the 
early  period  of  his  life  only  he  was,  as  Mr.  Spence  ^  ob- 
serves, what  perhaps  all  persons  of  his  birth  ought  to 
be,  a  poet.  His  father,  dying  in  1566,  left  him  a  large 
fortune,  the  greatest  part  of  which  he  soon  spent  by 
his  magnificent  manner  of  living,  but  in  the  end  be- 
came a  I  etter  economist.  He  served  in  parliament  both 
in  the  reign  of  Queen  Mary  and  Elizabeth  In  1567, 
he  was  created  Baron  Buckhurst;  in  1571,  was  sent 
ambassador  to  Charles  IX,  king  of  France ;  and  in 
1587,  to  the  States  of  the  United  Provinces.  In  1588, 
he  was  made  one  of  the  Knights  of  the  Garter;  in 
1591,  Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Oxford;  and  in 
1598,  Lord  High  Treasurer  of  England.  He  was  con- 
tinued in  that  office  by  King  James,  who  in  1603  ad- 
vanced by  him  to  the  dignity  of  Earl  of  Dorset.  He 
died  suddenly  at  the  council  board,  in  1608, f  of  a  fit 
of  the  apoplexy  X 

*  Mr.  A.  Chalmers  (Biogr.  Diet,  xxvii.  16,  fixes  the  date  of 
his  birth  in  15'^7,  while  Sir  E.  Brydges,  in  his  new  edit,  of  the 
Theatnun  Poetarum,  66,  says  with  Mr.  Reed  that  this  event  did 
not  happen  until  1636.  C. 

'  Some  account  of  Lord  Buckhurst  and  his  Writings,  prefixed 
to  the  edition  of  Gorboduc  printed  in  17 8G. 

t  He  had  been  ill  for  some  time,  and  his  life  was  despaired  of 
nine  months  before  he  died,  on  the  19th  April,  1608.  C. 

t  His  funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  Dr.  Abbot,  Dean  of 
Winchester,  on  May  26th,  1608.  It  was  printed  soon  afterwards 
and  the  follo%\'ing  curious  papers  are  extracted  from  it. 

"  Her  Majesty  not  long  before  her  death,  being  pleased  as  it 
seemeth  with  some  special  piece  of  service  which  his  Lordship  had 
done  unto  her  grew  at  large  to  discourse  touching  this  nobleman, 
as  an  honourable  person  and  a  counsellor  of  estate,  in  writing  hath 
advertised  me.     Her  highness  was  then  pleased  to  decypher  out 


108 

He  was  the  Author  of 

(1)  The  Introduction  to  the  Mirror  for  Magistrates, 
first  pubhshed  by  WiUiam  Baldwin  in  4to.  1550; 
again,  with  the  second  part  in  4to,  1563;  re-pubHshed 
with  additions  in  1575  ;  and  a  fourth  time  further 
augmented  and  published  by  Richard  Nicols  in  1610. 
*'  The  wurke  (says  the  original  publisher)  was  begun, 
*•  and  part  of  it  prynted  in  Queene  Maries  tyme,  but 
"  hyndred  by  the  Lorde  Chauncellor  that  then  was ; 
*'  nevertheles,  through  the  meanes  of  my  Lord  Staf- 
"  ford,  the  fyrst  parte  was  licenced  and  imprynted  the 

his  life  by  seven  steps  or  degrees.  The  first  was  his  younger 
days,  the  time  of  his  scholarship  when  first  in  that  famous  Uni- 
versity of  Oxford,  aud  afterward  in  the  Temple  (where  he  took  the 
degree  of  Banister)  he  gave  tokens  of  such  pregnancy,  such  studi- 
ousness  and  judgment  that  he  was  held  no  way  inferior  to  any  of 
his  time  or  standing.  And  of  this  there  remain  good  tokens,  both 
in  English  and  Latin  published  unto  the  world." 

In  the  margin  opposite  the  latter  words  is  this  note.  "The 
Life  of  Treiilian  in  the  Mirror  of  Magistr.  Epist.  prefix.  Aulic  Earth 
Gierke,"  from  whence  it  seems  that  the  Reverend  Dean  was  not  so 
well  informed  regarding  the  English  writings  of  Lord  Dorset,  as 
the  events  of  his  life.  He  then  proceeds  : — "  The  second  was  his 
travel,  when  being  in  France  and  Italy  he  profited  very  much  in 
the  languages,  in  nmtter  of  story  and  state.  And  being  prisoner 
in  Rome  for  the  space  of  fourteen  days,  (which  trouble  was 
brought  upon  him  by  some  who  hated  him  for  his  love  to  religion 
and  his  duty  to  his  sovereign)  he  so  prudently  bare  himself  that 
by  the  blessing  of  God,  and  his  temperate  kind  of  carnage,  he'was 
freed  out  of  that  danger.  The  third  step  which  lier  Majesty  did 
think  good  to  observe  was  (upon  return  in  England)  his  coming 
unto  her  Court,  where  on  divers  occasions  he  bountifully  feasted 
her  Highness  and  her  nobles ;  and  so  he  did  foreign  ambassadors. 
At  that  time  he  entertained  musicians,  the  most  curious  which  any 
where  he  could  have,  and  therein  his  lordship  excelled  unto  his 
djmg  day.  Then  was  his  discourse  judicious,  but  yet  witty  and 
delightful.  Thus  he  was  in  his  younger  days  a  scholar  and  a 
traveller  and  a  courtier  of  special  estimation." 

The  Sermon  then  notices  some  events  of  I-ord  Dorset's  public 
life,  and  particularly  the  present  of  a  ring  set  with  diamonds, 
which  king  James  sent  to  him  by  the  hand  of  Lord  Hay  when  Lord 
Dorset  was  sick,  in  the  beginning  of  June,  1607,  and  was  not  ex- 
pected to  recover.  It  quotes  a  passage  from  his  will,  in  which  he 
bequeathed  this  valued  gift  to  his  son,  and  afterwards  to  his 
nephew.  C. 


109 

*'  fyrst  yeare  of  the  raygne  of  thys  our  most  noble  and 
'•  vertuous  Queene,     Since    whych  time,  although   I 
"  have  bene  called  to  an  other  trade  of  lyfe,  yet  my 
**  good  Lorde  Stafforde  hath   not  ceased  to  call  upon 
*'  me  to  publish  so  much  as   I   had  gotten   at  other 
**  mens  hands,  so  that  through  his  Lordshippe's  earnest 
*'  meanes  I  have  now  also  set  furth  an  other  parte  con- 
'*  teyning  as  little  of  myne  owne,  as   the   fyrst  part 
'*  doth   of  other   mens."     In  this  second   part  Lord 
Buckhurst's  Induction  first  appeared.     The  cause   of 
writing   it  was   as    follows:     *<  After   that  he    (Lord 
"  Buckhurst)  understode  that  some  of  the  counsayle 
*'  would  not  suffer  the  booke  to  be  printed  in  suche 
"  order  as  we  had  agreed  and  determined,  he  purposed 
"  with   himselfe  to  have  gotten   at  my  handes  all  the 
"  tragedies  that  were  before  the  duke  of  Buckingham's, 
*'  which  he  woidd  have  preserved  in  one  volume;  and 
**  from  that  time  backward  even  to  the  time  of  William 
**  the  Conqueror,  he  determined  to  continue  and  per- 
"  feet  all  the  story  himselfe  in  such  order  as.  Lydgate 
**  (following  Bocchas)  had  already  used ;    and   there- 
**  fore   to  make   a   meete  induction  into  the  matter, 
"  he  devised   this  poesye."     We   are  informed,  that 
this  design  was  laid  aside  on  the  Author's  being  called 
to  a  more  serious   expence  in   the  great  state  aflfairs 
of  his  most  royal  Lady  and  Sovereign.     The  Induc- 
tion, in  1759,  was  re-printed  by  Mr.  Cape),    in   his 
Proli(sio)!S. 

Those  praises  which  were  bestowed  on  the  poetry  of 
Lord  Buckhurst  by  his  contemporaries  are  not  to  be  as- 
cribed to  his  rank  or  fortune.  The  best  judges  have 
ratified  the  sentence  passed  by  the  criticks  of  the  time, 
and  even  gone  beyond  them  in  their  commendations. 
Mr.  Warton,  speaking  of  the  The  Mirror  for  Magis- 
trates, says  (Observations  on  Spenser,  vol.  IL  p.  109.)  : 
**  There  is  one  Poem  indeed  among  the  rest  which  ex- 
**  hibits  a  groupe  of  imaginary  personages,  so  beanti- 
"  fully  drawn,  that  in  all  probability  they  contributed 
.  "  to  direct,  at  least  to  stimulate,  Spenser's  imagination 


110 

"  in  the  construction  of  the  like  representations.  Thus 
"  much  may  be  truly  said,  that  Sackvilles  Induction 
"  approaches  nearer  to  the  Fairy  Queen,  in  the 
<*  richness  of  allegoric  description,  than  any  previous 
**  or  succeeding  poem." 

(2)  The  Complaynt  of  Henrye,  duke  of  Bucking- 
ham, in  the  Mirror  for  Magistrates^ 

(3.)  A  Latin  Letter  to  Dr.  Bartholomew  Clerke,pre- 
fixed  to  his  Translation  of  Balthazar  Castillo,  De 
Curiali  sive  Aulico,  first  printed  at  London  about 
1571. 

(4.)  Verses  prefixed  to  Hobby's  Translation  of  Cas- 
tillo's Courtier,  4to.  1577,  in  commendation  of  the 
Work. 

(5.)  Letters  in  the  Cabala,  and  one  to  the  Earl  of 
Sussex,  in  Howard's  Collection,  p.  297. 

Thomas  Morton,  who  joined  with  Lord  Buckhurst 
in  writing  this  play,*  was,  according  to  Wood  '^  who 
gives  him  the  title  of  a  forward  and  busy  calvinist,  a 
native  of,  or  resident  at,  Sharpenhaule,  otherwise 
Sharpenhoe,  in  the  county  of  Bedford.  He  lived  some 
time  in  the  Temple,  became  a  barrister  ^  at  law.f  and 
solicitor  for  the  city  of  London  ^  He  translated  some 
of  the  Psalms  in  Sternhold  and  Hopkins's  Version, 
and  was  the  author  and  translator  of  several  polemical 


*  It  is  only  on  the  titles  of  what  are  considered  the  spurious 
copies  of  this  play  that  it  is  stated  that  Norton  wrote  the  three 
fxst,  and  Sackville  the  two  Inst  acts.     Mr.  Warton  doubts  whether 

Norton  had  by  any  means  so  great 'a  share  in  it.     C. 

^  Athenas  Oxonienses,  77. 

3  Ibid. 

t  In  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company  are  entries  of  fees 
paid  to  Thomas  Norton,  and  hence  it  has  been  concluded  that  he 
was  Counsel  to  that  Body.  Here  we  find  also  the  latest  memorial 
of  him  in  an  entry  between  1588  and  1584,  and  it  is  supposed 
either  that  after  that  date  he  was  not  employed,  or  that 

"  ugly  death 

Depriv'd  him  of  his  office  and  his  breath."         C. 

*  Maibury's  Book  of  Monarchy,  as  quoted  by  Oldys,  in  his  MS. 
Notes  on  Laagbaine. 


Ill 

and  political  Works,!  which  are  enumerated  in  Wood's 
Athense  Oxonienses*.  § 

t  Thomas  Norton's  "  Address  to  the  Queene's  JMajesties  poor 
deceavey'd  subjectes,"  is  noticed  at  length  in  Censiira  Literaria  X. 
97.     O-  G. 

5  P.  77.  p.  155. 

§  The  portrait  of  Norton,  or  at  least  a  figure  intended  for  him, 
is  preserved  in  a  small  work  of  six  folio  pages,  and  containing  five 
plates,  called  "  Descriptiones  quondam  illius  inhumanic  et  multiplicis 
persecutionis  quam  in  Anglia  proptis  Jidem  sustinent  Catholici  Chris- 
tiani."  The  third  plate  is  entitled  Tormenta  in  carceribus  injiicta,  and 
here  is  inserted  the  supposed  likeness  of  Norton,  who  is  called 
Nortonus  archicarnifex,  and  is  accompanied  suis  sateUitibus.  A 
further  account  of  the  work  may  be  seen  in  Censura  Literaria  VII. 
7?.     C. 


112 


ARGUMENT  OF  THE  TRAGEDIE. 

GoRBODuc,  Icing  of  Brittaine,  divided  his  realme  in  his 
life-time  to  his  sonnes^  Ferrex  and  Porrex.  The  sonnes 
Jell  to  discention.  The  yonger  killed  the  elder.  The 
mother  that  more  dearely  loved  the  elder,  for  revenge 
killed  the  yonger.  The  people  moved  ivith  the  crueltie 
of  the  fact,  rose  in  rebellion,  and  slew  'both  father  and 
mother.  The  Nobilitie  assembled,  and  most  terribly 
destroyed  the  Rebels,  and  afterwards  for  want  of  issue 
of  the  Prince,  whereby  the  succession  of  the  Crowne 
became  uncertaine,  they  fell  to  Civil  fVarre,  in  which 
both  they  and  many  of  their  issues  were  slain,  and  the 
land  for  a  long  time  almost  desolate  and  miserably 
wasted. 


113 


THE  P  [printer]  to  THE  READER, 


Where  this  Tragedie  was  for  furniture  of  part  of  the 
grand  Christmasse  in  the  Inner-Temple,  first  written 
dbout  nine  yeares  agoe  by  the  right  honourable  Thomas, 
now  Lorde  Buckherst,  and  by  T.  Norton,  and   after 
shewed  before  her  majestie,  and  never  intended  by  the 
Authors  thereof  to  be  published  :  yet  one  W.  G.  getting 
a  copie  thereof  at  some  yong  man's  hand  that  lacked  a 
little  money,   and  much  discretion  in  the  last  great 
plage  an.  1565,  about  5  yeares  past,  while  the  said 
lord  was  out  of  England,  and  T.  Norton   farre  out  of 
London,  and  neither  of  them  both  made  privie,  put  it 
forth  excedingly  corrupted  :  even  as  if  by  meanes  of  a 
broker  for  hire  he  should  have  entised  into  his  house  a 
faire  maide    and    done   her  villanie,  and  after  all  to 
bescratched  her  face,  torne  her  apparell,  berayed  and 
disfigured   her,  and  then  thrust  her  out  of  dores  dis- 
honested.  In  such  plight  after  long  wandring,  she  came 
at  length  home  to  the  sight  of  her  frendes,  who  scant 
knew  her  but  by  a  few  tokens  and  markes  remayning. 
They,  the  authors  I  meane,   though  they  were  very 
much  displeased  that  she  ranne  abroad  without  leave, 
whereby  she  caught  her  shame  as  many  wantons  do; 
yet  seeing  the  case  as  it  is,  remedilesse  have  for  com- 
mon   honestie    and    shamefastnesse   new    apparelled, 
trimmed,  and  attired  her  in  such  a  forme   as  she  was 
before.     In  whicli  better  forme  since  she  hath  come  to 
me,  I  have  harbored  her  for  her  frendes  sake  and  her 
owne;  and  I  do  not  dout  her  parentes,  the  authors, 
will  not  now  be  discontmt  that  she  goe  abroad  among 
you  good  readers,  so  it  be  in  honest  companie.     For 
she  is  by  my  encouragement  and  others  somewhat  lesse 
ashamed  of  the  dishonestie  done  to  her,  because  it  was 
by  fraude  and  force.     If  she  be  welcome  among  you, 
and   gently  enterteined  in  favor  of  the  house   from 

VQL.  I.  I 


114 

whence  she  is  descended,  and  of  her  owne  nature 
courteously  disposed  to  offend  no  man,  her  frendes  will 
thanke  you  for  it.  If  not,  but  that  she  shall  be  still 
reproched  with  her  former  missehap,  or  quarelled  at 
by  envious  persons,  she,  poore  gentlewoman,  will  surely 
play  Lucreces  part,  and  of  herself  die  for  shame,  and  1 
shall  wishe  that  she  had  taried  still  at  home  with  me, 
where  she  was  welcome ;  for  she  did  never  put  me  to 
more  charge  but  this  one  poore  blacke  gowne  lined 
with  white,  that  I  have  now  geven  her  to  goe  abroad 
among  you  withall. 


NAMES    OF   THE  SPEAKERS. 

GoRBODUC,  king  of  Great  Brittain, 

ViDENA,  queene  and  wife  to  king  Gorboduc. 

Ferrex,  elder  sonne  to  king  Gorboduc. 

PoRREX,  yonger  sonne  to  king  Gorboduc. 

Cloyton,  duke  of  Cornewall, 

Fergus,  duke  oj  Aibanye. 

Mandud,  duke  of  Loegris. 

Gwenakd,  duke  of  Cumberland. 

EuBULUS,  secretarie  to  the  kbig. 

Arostus,  a  counsellor  to  the  king. 

DoRDAN,  a  counsellor  assigned  by  the  king  to  his  eldest 

sonne  Ferrex. 
Philander,  a  counsellor  assigned  by  the  king  to  his 

yongest  son  Porrex. 

[Both  being  of  the  olde  kinges  counsel  before. 
Hermon,  a  parasite  remaining  with  Ferrex. 
Tyndar,  a  parasite  remaining  with  Porrex. 
NuNTius,  a  messenger  of  the  eldest  brother's  death. 
NuNTius,  a  messenger  of  duke  Fergus  rising  in  arms. 
Marcella,  a  lady  of  the  queenes  privie-chamber. 
Chorus,  ^oure  auncient  and  sage  men  of  Britiaine. 


The  Order  of  the  Domrae  Shew  before  the  first  Act 
and  the  Signification  therof. 

Firsty  the  musiche  of  violerize  began  to  plaij,  during 
which  came  in  upon  the  stage  size  wilde  men,  clothed 
in  leaves.  Of  whom  the  first  bore  on  his  necke  a 
fagot  of  small  stickes,  which  they  all  both  severallye 
and  together  assayed  with  all  their  str en g the s  to  breake, 
but  it  could  not  be  broken  by  them.  At  the  length  one 
of  them  plucked  out  one  of  the  sticks,  and  brake  it: 
and  the  rest  plucking  out  all  the  other  stickes  one 
after  another,  did  easely  breake  the  same  being  se- 
vered, which  being  enjoyned,  they  had  before  attempted 
in  vaine.  After  they  had  this  done,  they  departed  the 
stage,  and  the  musick  ceased.  Hereby  was  signified, 
that  a  state  knit  in  unitie  doth  continue  strong  against 
all  force,  but  being  divided,  is  easily  destroyed ;  as  befel 
•upon  duke  Gorboduc  dividing  his  lande  to  his  two 
sonnes,  ivhich  he  before  held  in  monarchic,  and  upon 
the  discention  of  the  brethren  to  whom  it  was  divided. 


FERREX  AND  PORREX^ 


ACTUS  PRIMUS.     SCENA  PRIMA.* 

ViDENA.       FeRREX, 

Videna.  The  silent  night  thatbringes  the  quiet pawse, 
From  painefull  travailes  of  the  wearie  day, 
Prolonges  my  careful!  thoughtes,  and  makes  me  blame 
The  slowe  Aurora,  that  so  for  love  or  shame 
Doth  long  delay  to  shewe  her  blushing  face ; 

^  This  play  we  are  told  by  the  printer  of  the  second  Edition  was 
first  acted  at  the  Inner-Temple,  and  afterwards  before  Queen  Eli- 
zabeth. Its  first  appearance  was  at  a  grand  Christmas  celebrated 
with  unusual  magnificence,  as  may  be  seen  by  the  description  of  it 
in  Dugdale's  Origines  Juridiciales,  p.  160.  It  is  here  printed  from  the 
second  Edition  ;  the  third,  of  1590,  from  which  it  was  published 
in  1736,  by  Mr.  Spence  and  by  Mr.  Dodsley,  in  this  collection  be- 
fore, appearing  to  be  only  a  republication  of  the  first  imperfect  copy 
complained  of  by  the  Authors  as  published  in  their  absence  without 
their  knowledge  or  consent.  The  testimony  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney 
concerning  this  play  is  as  follows  :  "  Gorboduc  is  full  of  stately 
"  speeches  and  well-sounding  phrases,  climbing  to  the  height  of 
"  Seneca  his  style,  and  as  full  of  notable  morality  :  which  it  doth 
"  most  delightfully  teach,  and  thereby  obtain  the  very  end  of 
"  poetry."  And  Mr.  Pope  was  of  opinion,  "  That  the  writers  of 
"  the  succeeding  age  might  have  improved  as  much  in  other  respects 
"  by  copying  from  him  a  propriety  in  the  sentiments,  an  unaffected 
"  perspicuity  of  style,  and  in  an  easy  flow  in  the  numbers  ;  in  a 
"  word,  that  chastity,  correctness,  and  gravity  of  style,  which  are 
"  so  essential  to  tragedy,  and  which  all  the  tragic  poets  who  fol- 
"  lowed,  not  excepting  Shakespeare  himself,  either  little  under- 
"  stood,  or  perpetually  neglected." 

*  The  edition  of  this  tragedy  of  1590,  is  said  to  be  a  reprint  of 
the  spurious  copy  first  published.  As  the  variations,  verbal  and 
otherwise,  are  generally  curious  and  sometimes  useful,  they  are 
noted  at  the  bottom  of  the  page,  and  for  this  purpose  a  careful 
comparison  has  been  made.    C. 


118  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  [aCT  f. 


And  now  the  day  renewes  my  griefull  plaint. 

Ferrex.  My  gracious  lady,  and  my  mother  deare, 
Pardon  my  griefe  for  your  so  grieved  minde 
To  aske  what  cause  tormenteth  so  your  hart. 

Videna.   So  g;reat  a  wrono^  and  so  unjust  despite. 
Without  all  cause  a^i^ainst  all  course  of  kinde — 

Ferrex.  Such  causelesse  wrong  and  so  unjust  des- 
pite, 
May  have  redresse,  or,  at  the  least,  revenge. 

Videna.   Neither  my  sonne  :  such  is  the  froward  will. 
The  person  such,  such  ray  misehappe  and  thine, 

Ferrex.  Mine !  know  I  none,  but  grief  for  your  dis- 
tresse. 

Videna.  Yes,  mine  for  thine,  my  sonne.     A  father? 
no: 
In  kinde  a  father,  not  in  kindliness"^. 

Ferrex.  My  father  ?   why,  I  know  nothing  at  all, 
Wherin  I  have  misdone  unto  his  grace. 

Videna.    Therfore,  the  more  unkinde  to  thee    and 
mee: 
For  knowing  well  (my  sonne)  the  tender  love 
That  I  have  ever  borne,  and  beare  to  thee, 
He  greved  thereat,  is  not  content  alone. 
To  spoile  thee  of  my  sight,  my  chiefest  joye, 

7    In  kinde  a  father,  not  in  kindlinesa]  Kind  is  nature.     Hamlet  has 
almost  tlie  sarr.e  sentiment, 

A  little  more  than  kin,  and  less  than  Kind. 
In  several  other  places   of  this  play  the  same  word  in  the  like 
sense  occurs.     Again,  in  Julius  Ctesar,  A.  1.  S.  3. 
"  But  if  you  would  consider  the  true  cause, 
"  Why  birds  and  beastes  from  quality  and  kind, 
"  Why  all  these  thinges  chan;  e  from  their  ordinance, 
"  Their  natures,  and  presumed  faculties 

"  To  monstrous  quality " 

Titus  Andronicus,  A.  2.  S.  1. 

"  The  forest  walks  are  wide  and  spacious, 
"  And  many  unfrequented  plots  there  are 
•'  Fitted  by  kind  for  rape  and  villainy." 
Antony  and   Cleopatra,  A.  5.  S.  2.     "  You  must  think  this,  look 
"  you,  that  the  worm  will  do  his  kind." 

For  these  instances  I  am  indebted  to  a  writer  in  the  Saint 
James's  Chronicle,  Nov.  5,  1774.  See  also  Mr.  Steevens's  Note  on 
Hamlet,A.l.S.2. 

1 


SCI.]  FERREX  AND  POllREX.  119 


But  thee,  of  thy  birth-right  and  heritage, 
Causelesse,  unkindly  and  in  wrongfull  wise, 
i\gainst  all  lawe  and  right  he  will  bereave : 
Halfe  of  his  kingdome  he  will  geve  away. 

Ferrex.  To  whom? 

Videna.  Even,  to  Porrex  his  yonger  sonne, 
Whose  growing  pride  I  do  so  sore  suspect. 
That  being  raised  to  equall  rule  with  thee, 
Mee  thinkes  I  see  his  envious  hart  to  swell, 
Filled  with  disdaine  and  with  ambicious  hope. 
The  end  the  goddes  do  know,  whose  altars  I 
Full  oft  have  made  in  vaine  of  cattel  slaine 
To  send  the  sacred  smoke  to  heaven's  throne. 
For  thee  my  sonne,  if  thinges  do  so  succede, 
As  now  ray  jelous  minde  misdemeth  sore. 

Ferrex.  Madam,  leave  care  and  careful!  plaint  for 
me: 
Just  hath  my  father  bene  to  every  wight. 
His  first  unjustice  he  will  not  extend 
To  me,  I  trust,  that  geve  no  cause  therof. 
My  brother's  pride  shall  hurt  himselfe,  not  me. 

Videna.  So  graunt  the  Goddes  :  but  yet  thy  father  so 
Hath  firmely  fixed  his  unmoved  minde 
That  piaintes  and  prayers  can  no  whit  availe, 
(For  those  have  I  assaid)  but  even  this  day 
He  will  endevour  to  procure  assent 
Of  all  his  counsell  to  his  fonde  devise. 

Ferrex.  Their  ancestors  from  race  to  race  have  borne 
True  fayth  to  my  forefathers  ;  and  their  seede, 
I  trust  they  eke  will  beare  the  like  to  me. 

Videna.  There  resteth  all;  but  if  they  faile  thereof, 
And  if  the  end  bring  forth  an  ill  successe, 
On  them  and  theirs  the  mischiefe  shall  befall. 
And  so  I  pray  the  Goddes  requite  it  them ; 
And  so  they  will, for  so  is  wont  to  be 
When  lordes  and  trusted  rulers  under  kinges, 
To  please  the  present  fancie  of  the  prince. 
With  wrong  transpose  the  course  of  governance, 
Murders,  mischief,  or  civill  sword  at  length. 
Or  mutual  treason,  or  a  just  revenge, 


120  rERllEX  AND  PORREX.  [aCT  I. 


When  right  succeding  line  returnes  again 
By  Jove's  just  judgement  and  deserved  wrath, 
Bringes  them  to  cruell,*  and  reprochfuU  death, 
And  rootes  their  names  and  kindredes  from  the  earth. 

Ferrex.  Mother,  content  you,  you  shall  see  the  end. 

Videna.  The  end  ?    thy  end  1  feare  :    Jove  end  me 
first ! 


ACTUS  PRIMUS.  SCENA  SECUNDA. 

GoRBODuc.  Arostus.  Philander.  Eubulus. 

Gorboduc,  My  lords,  whose  grave  advise  and  faithfull 
aide 
Have  long  upheld  my  honour  and  my  realme. 
And  brought  me  to  this  age  from  tender  yeres, 
Guidyng  so  great  estate  with  great  renowne ; 
Nowe  more  importeth  mee  than  erst  ^  to  use 
Your  fayth  and  wisdome  whereby  yet  I  reigne ; 
That  when  by  death  my  life  and  rule  shall  cease, 
The  kingdome  yet  may  with  unbroken  course 
Havecertayne  prince,  by  whose  undoubted  right 
Your  wealth  and  peace  may  stand  in  quiet  stay : 
And  eke  that  they  whome  nature  hath  preparde, 
In  time  to  take  my  place  in  princely  seate, 
While  in  their  father's  tyme  their  pliant  youth 
Yeldes  to  the  frame  of  skilfull  governaunce, 
Maye  so  be  taught,  and  trayned  in  noble  artes, 
As  what  their  fathers  which  have  reigned  before 
Have  with  great  fame  derived  downe  to  them, 
With  honour  they  may  leave  unto  their  seede; 
And  not  be  thoughtf  for  their  unworthy  life. 
And  for  their  lawlesse  swarvynge  out  of  kinde. 
Worthy  to  lose  whatlawe  and  kind  them  gave; 
But  that  they  may  preserve  the  common  peace, 
(The  cause  thatiirst  began  and  still  mainteines. 
The  lyneall  course  of  kinges  inheritance) 

*  "  Civil."     Edit.  1590.  ^  erst]  formerly,  heretofore, 

t  "  Taught."     Edit.  1590. 


SC.  II.]  FEllREX  AND  PORREX.  121 


For  me,  for  myne,  for  you,  and  for  the  state 
Whereof  both  I  and  you  have  charge  and  care. 
Thus  do  I  meane  to  use  your  wonted  fayth 
To  me  and  myne,  and  to  your  native  lande. 
My  lordes,  be  playne  without  ail  wrie  respect, 
Or  poysonous  craft  to  spealce  in  pleasyng  wise. 
Lest,  as  the  blame  of  yll  succedyng  thinges 
Shall  lighten  you,  so  light  the  harmes  also. 

Arostus.  Your  good  acceptance  so  (most  noble  king) 
Of  suche  our  faithfulnesse,  as  heretofore 
We  have  employed  in  duetiesto  your  grace, 
And  to  this  realme  whose  worthy  head  you  are. 
Well  proves  that  neyther  you  mistrust  at  all. 
Nor  we  shall  neede  in  boasting  wise  to  shewe 
Our  trueth  to  you,  nor  yet  our  wakefullcare 
For  you,  for  yours,  and  for  our  native  lande. 
Wherefore  (O  kyng)  I  speake  as  one  for  all, 
Sithe  all  as  one  do  beare  you  egall  faith  : 
Doubt  not  to  use  our  counsells  and  our  aides 
Whose  honours,  goods  and  lyves  are  whole  avowed, 
To  serve,  to  ayde,  and  to  defende  your  grace. 

Gorboduc.  My  lordes,  I  thanke  you  all.    This  is  the 
case. 
Ye  know,  the  Gods,  who  have  the  soveraigne  care. 
For  kings,  for  kingdomes,  and  for  common  weales, 
Gave  me  two  sonnes  in  my  more  lusty  age. 
Who  nowe  in  my  decayeng*  yeres  are  growen 
Well  tovvardes  ryper  state  of  minde  and  strength. 
To  take  in  hande  some  greater  princely  charge. 
As  yet  they  lyve  and  spende  their  hopefull  dales 
With  me  and  with  their  mother  here  in  courte. 
Their  age  nowe  asketh  other  place  and  trade, 
And  myne  also  doth  aske  an  other  chaunge. 
Theirs  to  more  travaile,  myne  to  greater  ease. 
Whan  fatall  death  shall  endemy  mortall  hfe. 
My  purpose  is  to  leave  unto  them  twaine. 
The  realme  divided  in  two  sondry  partes  : 
The  one,  Ferrex  myne  elder  sonne  shall  have, 
The  other,  shall  the  yongerf  Porrex  rule. 

*  "  Deceiving."  Edit.  1590.  f  "  Other."  Edit.  1590. 

4 


}22  FERIIEX    AND  PORREX.  [aCT  I, 


That  both  my  purpose  may  more  firmely  stande, 
And  eke  that  they  may  better  rule  their  charge, 
I  meane  forthwith  to  place  them  in  the  same; 
That  in  my  life  they  may  both  learne  to  rule, 
And  I  may  joy  to  see  their  ruling  well. 
This  is,  in  summe,  what  I  would  have  ye  wey: 
First  whether  ye  allowed  my  whole  devise, 
And  thinke  it  good  forme,  for  them,  for  you, 
And  for  our  countrey,  mother  of  us  all : 
And  if  ye  lyke  it,  and  allowe  it  well, 
Then  for  their  guydinge  and  their  governaunce. 
Shew  forth  such  meanes  of  circumstance, 
As  ye  think  meete  to  be  both  knowne  and  kept. 
Loe,  this  is  all;  now  tell  me  your  advise. 
^      Arostus.  And  this  is  much,  and  asketh  great  advise  ; 
But  for  my  part,  my  soveraigne  lord  and  kyng, 
This  do  I  thinke.     Your  majestic  doth  know, 
How  under  you,  injustice  and  in  peace. 
Great  wealth  and  honour  longe  we  have  enjoyed, 
So  as  we  cannot  seeme  with  gredie  mindes 
To  wishe  for  change  of  prince  or  governaunce; 
But  if  we  lyke  your  purpose  and  devise, 
Our  lyking  must  be  deemed  to  proceede 
Of  rightfull  reason,  and  of  heedefull  care. 
Not  for  ourselves,  but  for  our  common  state  : 
Sithe  our  owne  state  doth  neede  no  better  change. 
I  thinke  in  all,  as  erst  your  grace  hath  saide  : 
Firste  when  you  shall  unlode  your  aged  mynde 
Of  hevye  care  and  troubles  manifolde, 
And  laye  the  same  upon  my  lordes  your  sonnes, 
Whose  growing  yeres  may  beare  the  burden  long. 
And  long  I  pray  the  Goddes  to  graunt  it  so : 
And  in  your  life  while  you  shall  so  beholde 
Their  rule,  their  vertues,  and  their  noble  deedes, 
Suche  as  their  kinde  behighteth  '^  to  us  all, 

^  alhwe]  i.  e.  approve.     So, in  King  Lear,  A.  2.  S.  4. 

"  —  if  your  sweet  sway 

"  Allow  obedience." 
See  Mr.  Steevens's  Note  thereon. 

'0  behighteth]   i.  e.  promiseth.     So  Spenser,  in  his  Fairy  Queen, 
B.  4.  C.  U.S.  6. 


SC.  II.]  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  123 


Great  be  the  profites  that  shall  growe  thereof; 

Your  age  in  quiet  shall  the  longer  last. 

Your  lastinii"  age  sb.al  be  their  longer  stay. 

For  cares  of  kynges,  that  rule  as  you  have  ruled, 

For  publique  wealth,  and  not  for  private  joye, 

Do  waste  mannes  lyfe  and  hasten  crooked  age, 

With  furrowed  face,  and  with  enfeebled  lymmes, 

To  draw  on  creepyng  death  a  swifter  pace. 

They  two  yet  yong  shall  beare  the  parted  reigne 

With  greater  ease  than  one,  now  olde,  alone 

Can  welde  the  whole,  for  whonj  muche  harder  is 

With  lessened  strength  the  doubled  vveight  to  beare. 

Your  eye,  your  counsell,  and  the  grave  regarde 

Of  father,  yea,  of  such  a  father's  name, 

Now  at  beginning  of  their  sondred  reigne. 

When  is  the  hazarde  of  their  whole  successe, 

Shall  bridle  so  their  force  of  youthfull  heates, 

And  so  restreine  the  ra^e  of  insolence. 

Which  most  assailes  the  yong  and  noble  mindes. 

And  so  shall  guide  and  traine  in  tempred  stay 

Their  yet  greene  bending  wittes  with  reverent  awe, 

As  now  inured  with  vertues  at  the  first, 

Custome  (O  king)  shall  bring  delightfulnesse : 

By  use  of  vertue,  vice  shall  growe  in  hate. 

But  if  you  so  dispose  it,  that  the  daye 

Which  ends  your  life  shall  first  begin  their  reigne, 

Great  is  the  perill,  what  will  be  the  ende, 

When  such  beginning  of  such  liberties, 

Voide  of  such  staves*  as  in  your  life  do  lye, 

Shall  leave  them  free  to  randon ''  of  their  will 

An  open  praie  to  trailerous  flatterie, 

The  greatest  pestilence  of  noble  youthe  : 

Whiche  perill  shall  be  past,  if  in  your  life 

Their  tempred  youthe  with  aged  father's  awe 

Be  brought  in  ure'-'-^  of  skilfull  stayednesse. 

"  And  for  his  paines  a  whistle  him  beliight, 

"  That  of  a  fishe's  shell  was  wrought  with  rare  delight." 

*  "  States,"  edit.  1590. 

"  ratidGii]    To  go  without  any  restraint.     Randonner,  Fr. 

'■!  in  ure.]  Ure  is  an  old  word,  signifying  habit,  practise.   It  is  used 
by  Spenser  and  others.     So,  in  Edward  III.  A.  1.  S.  1. 


i~4  FERREX   AND   PORREX.  [aCT  I. 

And  in  your  life  their  lives  disposed  so 
Shall  length  your  noble  life  in  joyfulncsse. 
Thus  thinke  I  that  your  grace  hath  wisely  thought, 
And  that  your  tender  care  of  common  weale 
Hath  bred  this  thought,  so  to  divide  your  lande, 
And  plant  your  sonnes  to  beare  the  present  rule,  • 
While  you  yet  live  to  see  their  rulinge  well, 
That  you  may  longer  lyve  by  joye  therein. 
What  furder  meanes  behovefuU  are  and  meete 
At  greater  leisure  may  your  grace  devise, 
When  all  have  said,  and  when  we  be  agreed 
If  this  be  best,  to  part  the  realme  in  twaine, 
And  place  your  sonnes  in  present  governement: 
Whereof  as  I  have  plainely  said  my  mynde, 
So  woulde  I  here  the  rest  of  all  my  lordes. 

Philander,  In   part   I   thinke    as   hath   been    saide 
before ; 
In  part  agayne  my  minde  is  otherwise. 
As  for  dividing  of  this  realme  in  twaine, 
And  lotting  out  the  same  in  egall  partes 
To  either  of  my  lordes  your  graces  sonnes. 
That  thinke  I  best  for  this  your  realmes  behofe, 
For  profite  and  advauncement  of  your  sonnes, 
And  for  your  comfort  and  your  honour  eke. 
But  so  to  place  them  while  your  life  do  last, 
To  yelde  to  them  your  royall  governaunce, 
To  be  above  them  onely  in  the  name 
Of  father,  not  in  kingly  state  also, 
I  thinke  not  good  for  you,  for  them,  nor  us. 
This  kingdome  since  the  bloudie  civill  fielde 
13  Where  Morgan  slaine  did  yeld  his  conquered  part 

" Ned,  thou  must  begin 

"  Now  to  forget  thy  study  and  thy  books, 
"  And  ure  thy  shoulders  to  an  armour's  weight." 
Ascham's  Toxophikis,  p.  g7.  Bennet's  Edition  : 

"  What  thing  a  man  in  tender  age  hath  most  in  ure, 
"  That  same  to  death  always  to  kepe  he  shall  be  sure." 
13  Where  Morgan  slaine  did  yeld  his  conquered  part 

Unto  his  cosins  sworde  in  Camherland,']  See  GeofFry  of  Mon- 
mouth, b.  ii.  c.  15.  He  is  there  called  Margan,  and  is  said  to  have 
been  killed  by  his  brother  Cunedagius,  in  a  contest  similar  to  the 
present  between  ierrex  and  Porrex, 


SC.  II.]  FliRREX   AND  PORREX.  125 


Unto  his  cosins  sworde  in  Caraberland  *, 

Conteineth  all  that  whilome  did  suffice 

Three  noble  sonnes  of  your  forefather  Brute  ; 

So  your  two  sonnes  it  may  suffice  also, 

The  moe  '^  the  stronger,  if  they  gree  in  one  : 

The  smaller  compasse  that  the  realme  doth  holde. 

The  easier  is  the  swey  thereof  to  welde, 

The  nearer  justice  to  the  wronged  poore, 

The  smaller  charge,  and  yet  ynoughe  for  one. 

And  whan  the  region  is  divided  so 

That  brethren  be  the  lordes  of  either  parte, 

Such  strength  doth  nature  knit  betwene  them  both 

In  sondrie  bodies  by  conjoyned  love, 

That  not  as  two,  but  one  of  doubled  force, 

Eche  is  to  other  as  a  sure  defence: 

The  noblenesse  and  glory  of  the  one 

Doth  sharpe  the  courage  of  the  others  mynde 

With  vertuous  envie  to  contende  for  praise. 

And  such  an  eagalnesse  ^^  hath  nature  made 

Betweene  the  brethren  of  one  father's  seede, 

As  an  unkindly  wrong  it  seemes  to  be, 

To  throwe  the  brother-subject  under  feete 

Of  him  whose  peere  he  is  by  course  of  kinde: 

And  nature  that  did  make  this  egalnesse 

Ofte  so  repineth  *  at  so  great  a  wrong. 

That  ofte  she  rayseth  up  a  grudginge  griefe 

In  yonger  brethren  at  the  elders  state : 

Wherby  both  townes  and  kingdomes  have  been  rased, 

And  famous  flockes  of  royall  blood  destroied  ; 

The  brother  that  shoulde  be  the  brothers  aide, 

•  "  Cumberland,"  edit.  1590. 

'<  moe]  i.  e.  more.  The  ancient  way  of  spelling  and  pronouncing 
this  word. 

'5  egalnesse]  i.e.  equality.  So,  in  Erasmus's  Praise  of  Folk,  1549, 
Sign.  D  :  "  And  friendship  is  never  properly  knitte,  but  betweene 
"  men  of  egall  estate  and  condition." 

Hall's  Chronicle,  Henry  IV.  p.  24 :  "  — affinnyng  farther,  that  no 
"  kyng  anointed  of  very  dutie  was  either  bound  or  obliged  to  an- 
"  swere  any  challenge  but  to  his  pere  of  egall  estate  and  equivolent 
"  dignitie." 

t  "  Sore  pineth."  edit.  1590. 


126  FERREX  AND   PORREX.  [aCT  I. 


And  have  a  wakefull  care  for  his  defence, 

Gapes  for  his  death,  and  blames  the  lyngering  yeres, 

That  draw  *  not  forth  his  ende  with  faster  course ; 

And,  oft  impacient  of  so  longe  delayes. 

With  hatefull  slaughter  he  prevents  the  fates, 

And  heapes  a  just  rewarde  for  brothers  bloode, 

With  endlesse  vengeaunce  on  his  stocke  for  aye. 

Such  mischiefes  here  are  wisely  mette  withall. 

If  egall  state  may  nourishe  egall  love, 

Where  none  hath  cause  to  grudge  at  others  good. 

But  nowe  the  head  to  stoupe  beneth  them  both, 

Ne  kinde,  ne  reason,  ne  good  ordre  beares. 

And  oft  it  hath  ben  seene,  where  nature's  course 

Hath  ben  perverted  in  disordered  wise, 

When  fathers  cease  to  know  that  they  should  rule, 

And  children  cease  to  know  ihey  should  obey, 

That  often  over  kindly  f  tendernesse 

Is  mother  of  unkindly  stiibbornesse, 

I  speake  not  this  in  envie  or  reproche, 

As  if  I  grudgded  the  glorie  of  your  sonnes, 

Whose  honour  I  besech  the  Gocides  encrease : 

Nor  yet  as  if  I  thought  there  did  remaine, 

So  filthie  cankers  in  their  noble  brestes. 

Whom  I  esteeme  (which  is  their  greatest  praise, 

Undoubted  children  of  so  good  a  kyng  ; 

Onelie  1  meane  to  she  we  by  certaine  rules, 

Which  kinde  hath  graft  within  the  mind  of  man. 

That  nature  hath  her  ordre  and  her  course. 

Which  (being  broken)  doth  corrupt  the  state 

Of  myncles  and  thinges  even  in  the  best  of  all. 

My  lordes,  your  sonnes,  may  learne  to  rule  of  you, 

Your  owne  example  in  your  noble  course 

Is  fittest  guyder  of  their  youthful  yeares. 

If  you' desire  to  see  some  preseni  joye 

By  sight  of  their  weli-rulynge  in  your  lyfe. 

See  them  obey,  so  shall  you  see  thern  rule 

Who  so  obeyeth  not  with  humblenesse 

Will  rule  with  outrage  and  with  insolence. 

*  "  Brings."  edit.  1590. 

t  '•'  Our  unkindly."  edit.  1590. 


SC.  II.]  FERREX   AND  PORREX.  127 


Longe  may  they  rule,  I  do  beseche  the  Goddes, 
But  longe  may  they  learne,  ere  they  begyn  to  rule. 
If  kinde  and  fates  would  suffre  I  would  wishe 
Them  aged  princes  and  immortal  kinges  : 
Wherfore,  most  noble  kynge,  I  will  assent, 
Betwene  your  sonnes  that  you  divide  your  realme, 
And  as  in  kinde,  so  match  them  in  degree : 
But  while  the  Goddes  prolong  your  royall  life, 
Prolong  your  reigne,  for  therto  lyve  you  here, 
And  therfore  have  the  Goddes  so  long  forborne 
To  joyne  you  to  themselves,  that  still  you  might 
Be  prince  and  father  of  our  common  vveale. 
They  when  they  see  your  children  ripe  to  rule, 
Will  make  them  roume,  and  will  remove  you  hence. 
That  yours  in  right  ensuynge  of  your  life 
May  rightly  honour  your  immortall  name. 

Eubidus.  Your  wonted  true  regarde  of  faithfuU  hartes 
Makes  me  (0  kinge)  the  bolder  to  presume 
To  speake  what  I  conceive  within  my  brest, 
Although  the  same  do  not  agree  at  all 
With  that  which  other  here  my  lordes  have  said, 
Nor  which  yourselfe  have  seemed  best  to  lyke. 
Pardon  I  crave,  and  that  my  wordes  be  demed 
To  flowe  from  hartie  zeale  unto  your  grace, 
And  to  the  safetie  of  your  common  weale. 
To  parte  your  realme  unto  my  lordes  your  sonnes 
I  thinke  not  good  for  you,  ne  yet  for  them, 
But  worste  of  all  for  this  our  native  lande  : 
Within  *one  land,  one  single  rule  is  best : 
Divided  reignesfdo  make  divided  hartes, 
But  peace  preserves  the  countrey  and  the  prince. 
Suche  is  in  man  the  gredy  minde  to  reigne, 
So  great  is  his  desire  to  climbe  alofte, 
In  worldly  stage  the  stateliest  partes  to  beare, 
That  faith  and  justice  and  all  kindly  love 
Do  yelde  unto  desire  of  soveraigntie, 
Where  egall  state  doth  raise  an  egall  hope 
To  winne  the  thing  that  either  wold  attaine. 

*  «  For  T^'ith."     Edit.  1590.  t  Regions.     Edit.  1590. 


128  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  [aCT  II. 


Your  grace  remembreth  how  in  passed  yeres, 

The  mightie  Brute,  first  prince  of  all  this  lande^®, 

Possessed  the  same,  and  ruled  it  well  in  one; 

He  thinking  that  the  compasse  did  suffice 

For  his  three  sonnes,  three  kingdoms  eke  to  make, 

Cut  it  in  three,  as  you  would  now  in  twaine ; 

But  how  much  British  bloud  hath  since  bene  spilt, 

To  joyne  againe  the  sondred  unitie  ! 

What  princes  slaine  before  their  timely  houre  ! 

What  waste  of  townes  and  people  in  the  lande! 

What  treasons  heaped  on  murders  and  on  spoiles! 

Whose  just  revenge  even  yet  is  scarcely  ceased, 

RuthefuU  remembraunce  is  yet  rawe  in  minde. 

The  Gods  forbyd  the  like  tochaunce  againe! 

And  you  (O  king)  geve  not  the  cause  thereof. 

My  lord  Ferrex  your  elder  sonne,  perhappes 

Whome  kinde  and  custome  geves  a  rightfull  hope 

To  be  your  heire  and  to  succede  your  reigne, 

Shall  thinke  that  he  doth  suffer  greater  wronge 

Then  he  perchaunce  will  beare,  if  power  serve; 

Porrex,  the  younger,  so  upraised*  in  state, 

Perhappes  in  courage  will  be  raysed  also ; 

If  flatterie  then,  which  fayles  not  to  assaile 

The  tendre  mindes  of  yet  unskilfull  youth, 

In  one  shall  kindle  and  encrease  disdaine, 

And  envie  in  the  others  harte  enflarae; 

This  fire  shall  waste  their  love,  their  lives,  their  land, 

And  ruthefuU  ruine  shall  destroy  them  both. 

I  wish  not  thys  (0  kyng)  so  to  befall. 

But  feare  the  thing,  that  I  do  most  abhorre. 

Geve  no  beginning  to  so  dreadfuU  ende, 

Kepe  them  in  order  and  obedience. 

And  let  them  both  by  now  obeying  you, 

Learne  such  behaviour  as  beseemes  their  state  ; 

The  elder  myldenesse  in  his  governaunce, 

The  yonger,  a  yelding  contentednesse  : 

And  kepe  them  neare  unto  your  presence  still, 

16  The  mightie  Brute,  first  p-ince  of  all  this  land.']     See  Geoftry  of 
Monmouth,  book  i. 

*  "  Unpaised."     Edit.  1590. 


SC.  II.]  FERREX   AND  PORIlEX.  129 


That  they,  restreyned  by  the  awe  of  you, 

May  live  in  compasse  of  well-tempred  staye. 

And  passe  the  perrilles  of  their  youthfull  yeares. 

Your  a^ed  life  clrawes  on  to  febler  tyme, 

Wherin  you  shall  lesse  able  be  to  beare 

The  travailes  that  in  youth  you  have  susteyned. 

Both  in  your  person's  and  your  realme's  defence. 

If  planting  now  your  sonnes  in  furder  partes, 

You  sende  them  furder  from  your  present  reach, 

Lesse  shall  you  know  how  they  themselves  demeane  : 

Traiterous  corrupters  of  their  plyant  youth 

Shall  have  unspied  a  muche  more  free  accesse : 

And  if  ambition,  and  inflamed  disdaine 

Shall  arme  the  one,  the  other,  or  them  both, 

To  civill  warre,  or  to  usurping  pride. 

Late  shall  you  rue  that  you  ne  recked '^  before. 

Good  is  I  graunt  of  all  to  hope  the  best. 

But  not  to  live  still  dreadlesse  of  the  worst. 

So  truste  the  one,  that  th'other  be  forsene, 

Arme  not  unskiltulnesse  with  princely  power. 

But  you  that  long  have  wisely  ruled  the  reynes 

Of  royaltie  within  your  noble  realme, 

So  holde  them,  while  the  Gods  for  our  avayles 

Shall  stretch  the  thred  of  your  prolonged  daies. 

To  soone  he  clambe  into  the  flaming  carre 

Whose  want  of  skill  di  i  set  the  earth  on  fire:. 

Time  and  example  of  your  noble  grace, 

Shall  teache  your  sonnes  both  to  obey  and  rule : 

When  time  hath  taught  them,  time  shall  make  them 

place, 
The  place  that  now  is  full ;  and  so  I  pray 
Long  it  remaine,  to  comforteof  us  all. 

Gurboduc,  I  take  your  faithful  harts  in  thankfuU  part ; 
But  sithe  I  see  no  cause  to  draw  my  minde, 
To  feare  the  nature  of  my  loving  sonnes, 
Or  to  misdeme  that  envie  or  disdaine 
Can  there  worke  hate,  where  nature  planteth  love. 


*  "  Demaund."     Edit.  1590. 

"  reckecl]     See  Note  33  to  Tattered  aid  Gismanda,vo\.  II. 


130  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  [aCT  I. 


In  one  selfe  purpose  do  I  still  abide. 

My  love  extendeth  egally  to  both, 

My  lande  suffiseth  for  them  both  also : 

Humber  shall  parte  the  marches  of  theyr  realmes : 

The  sotherne  parte  the  elder  shall  possesse, 

The  northerne  shall  Porrex  the  yonger  rule: 

In  quiet  I  will  passe  mine  aged  dayes, 

Free  from  the  travaile  and  the  painefull  cares 

That  hasten  age  upon  the  worthiest  kinges. 

But  lest  the  fraude  that  ye  do  seeme  to  feare, 

Of  flattering  tongues,  corrupt  their  tender  youth 

And  wrythe  them  to  the  wayes  of  youthfuU  lust, 

To  climyng  pride  or  to  revenging  hate, 

Or  to  neglecting  of  their  careful!  charge 

Lewdely  to  live  in  wanton  recklessnesse, 

Or  to  oppressing  of  the  rightfull  cause, 

Or  not  to  wreke  the  wronges  done  to  the  poore, 

To  treade  downe  truth,  or  favour  false  deceit, 

I  meane  to  joyne  to  either  of  my  sonnes, 

Some  one  of  those  whose  Ions:  approved  faith 

And  wisdome  tryed  may  well  assure  my  harte, 

That  mynyng  fraude  shall  finde  no  way  to  crepe 

Into  their  fensed  eares  with  grave  advise. 

This  is  the  ende,  and  so  I  pray  you  all 

To  bear  my  sonnes  the  love  and  loyaltie 

That  I  have  founde  within  your  faithfull  brestes. 

Arostus.  You,  nor  your  sonnes,  our  soveraign   lord, 
shall  want 
Our  faith  and  service  while  our  lives  do  last. 

Chorus.  When  settled   stay  doth  holde  the  royall 
throne. 
In  stedfast  place  by  knowen  and  doubtles  right; 
And  chiefely  when  discent  on  one  alone 
Makes  single  and  unparted  reigne  to  light ; 
Ech  chaunge  of  course  unjoints  the  whole  estate 
And  yeldes  it  thrall  to  mine  by  debate. 

The  strength  that  knit  by  faste  accorde  in  one, 
Against  all  forrein  power  of  mightie  foes, 
Could  of  itselfe  defend  itselfe  alone, 
Disjoyned  once,  the  former  force  doth  lose. 


SC.   ir.]  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  131 


The  stickes,  that  sondred  brake  so  soone  in  twaine, 
In  faggot  bounde  attempted  were  in  vaine. 

Oft  tender  minde  that  leades  the  parciall  eye 
Of  erring  parents  in  their  childrens  love, 
Destroyes  the  wrongly  *  loved  childe  therby  : 
This  doth  the  proud  sonne  of  Apollo  prove, 
AVho,  rashely  set  in  chariot  of  his  sire, 
Inflamed  the  parched  earth  with  heavens  fire. 

And  this  great  king  that  doth  devide  his  lande, 
And  chaunge  the  course  of  his  descending  crowne, 
And  yeldes  the  reigne  into  his  childrens  hande, 
From  blisful  state  of  joy  and  great  renowne, 
A  myrrour  shall  become  to  princes  all. 
To  learne  to  shunne  the  cause  of  such  a  fall. 


The  Order  and  Signification  of  the  Domme  Shew 
before  the  second  Acta. 

First  the  musicke  of  cornettes  began  to  playe,  during 
which  came  in  upon  the  stage  a  king  accompanied  with 
a  nombre  of  his  nolilitie  and  gentlemen.  And  after 
he  had  placed  himself  in  a  chaire  of  estate  prepared 
for  him,  there  came  and  kneled  before  him  a  grave  and 
aged  gentleman,  and  offred  up  a  cuppe  unto  him  of 
wyne  in  a  glasse,  which  the  king  refused.  After  him 
commes  a  brave  and  lustie  yong  gentleman,  and  pre- 
sentes  the  king  with  a  cup  of  golde  filled  with  poyson, 
which  the  king  accepted,  and  drinking  the  same,  imme- 
diately fell  downe  dead  upon  the  stage,  and  so  was 
carry ed  thence  away  by  his  lordes  and  gentlemen,  and 
then  the  musicke  ceased.  Hereby  was  signified,  that 
as  glasse  by  nature  holdeth  no  poyson,  but  is  clere  and 
may  easily  be  seen  through,  ne  boweth  by  any  arte ;  so 
afaythfull  counsellour  holdeth  no  treason,  but  is  play  ne 
and  open,  ne  yeldeth  to  anie  undiscrete  afiection,  but 
geveth  holesome  counsell,  which  the  yll  advised  prince 
refuseth.  The  delightfull  golde  filled  with  poyson 
betokeneth  Flattery,  which  under  faire  seeming  of 
pleasaunt  wordes  beareth  deadly  poyson, which  destroyed 
*  "  Wrongful!,"  edit.  1590. 


132  FERREX  AND  TORREX.  [aCT 


^X 


the  prince  that  recei/veth  it.  As  befell  in  the  two 
brethren  Ftrrex  and  Porrex,  who,  refusing  the  holesome 
advise  of  grave  counsellours,  credited  tJtese  young  para- 
sites, and  brought  to  themselves  death  and  destruction 
therby. 


ACTUS  SECUNDUS.     SCENA  PRIMA. 

Ferrex,  Hermon,  Dordan. 
Ferrex.    I  mervaiJe   much    what    reason    ledde  the 
king 
My  father  thus  without  all  my  desert 
To  reve  me  halfe  the  kingdome,  which  by  course 
Of  lawe  and  nature  should  remayne  to  me. 

Hermon.  If  you  with  stubborne  and  untamed  pryde 
Had  stood  against  him  in  rebelling*  wise, 
Or  if  with  grudging  minde  you  had  envied 
So  slow  a  sliding  ot  his  aged  yeres, 
Or  sought  before  your  time  to  haste  the  course 
Of  fatall  death  upon  his  royall  head, 
^  Or  stained  your  stocke  with  murder  of  your  kyn, 

^vf  Some  face  of  reason  might  perhaps  have  seemed, 

■V  ^  To  yelde  some  likely  cause  to  spoyle  ye  thus. 

Y^  Ferrex.   The    wrekeful   gods   powre    on    my  cursed 

s   ,  head 

Jq  Eternall  plagues  and  Jiever  dying  woes : 

^  The  hellish  prince  adjudge  my  dampned  ghost 

To  Tantales  thirste,  or  prcude  Ixions  wheele, 
Or  cruell  gripe  ^'  to  gnaw  my  growing  f  harte, 
To  during  tormentes  and  unquenched  flames; 
If  ever  I  conceyved  so  foule  a  thought, 
To  wishe  his  ende  of  life,  or  yet  of  reigne. 

Dordan.  Ne  yet  your  father  (O  most  noble  prince) 
Did  ever  thinke  so  fowle  a  thing  of  you  ; 
For  he  with  more  than  fathers  tender  love 
While  yet  the  fates  do  lende  him  life  to  rule, 

*  "  Rebellious,"  edit  1590. 

ripe.]    Agrii 
See  Cotgrave.     S. 

t  "  Groaning,"  edit.  1590. 


sc.  I.]  FERREx  a:nd  porrex.  133 


(Wlio  long  might  lyve  to  see  your  ruling  well) 
To  you  my  lorde,  and  to  his  other  sonne, 
Lo  he  resignes  his  realme  and  royaltie ; 
Which  never  would  so  wise  a  prince  have  done, 
If  he  had  once  misdemed  that  in  your  harte 
There  ever  lodged  so  unkinde  a  thought. 
But  tendre  love  (my  lorde)  and  setled  truste 
Of  your  good  nature,  and  your  noble  minde, 
Made  him  to  place  you  thus  in  royall  throne, 
And  now  to  geve  you  half  his  realme  to  guide, 
Yea  and  that  halfe  which  in  *  abounding  store 
Of  things  that  serve  to  make  a  welthy  realme, 
In  stately  cities  and  in  fruteful  soyle. 
In  temperate  breathing  of  the  mihier  heaven, 
In  things  of  nedefull  use,  which  frendly  sea 
Transportcs  by  traffike  from  the  forreine  partes, 
In  flowing  wealth,  in  honour  and  in  force. 
Doth  passe  the  double  value  of  the  parte 
That  Porrex  hath  allotted  to  his  reigne. 
Such  is  your  case,  such  is  your  father's  love. 

Ferrex.  Ah  love,  my  frends  ?  love  wrongs  not  whom 
he  loves. 

Dordan.  Ne  yet  he  wrongeth  you  that  geveth  you 
So  large  a  reigne  ere  that  the  course  of  time 
Bring  you  to  kingdome  by  discended  right. 
Which  time  perhaps  might  end  your  time  before, 

Ferrex.  Is  this  no  wrong,  say  you,  to  reave  from  m 
My  native  right  of  halfe  so  great  a  realme, 
And  thus  to  match  his  yonger  sonne  with  me 
In  egall  power,  and  in  as  great  degree? 
Yea  and  what  sonne?  the  sonne  whose  swelling  pride 
Woulde  never  yelde  one  pointe  of  reverence, 
When  I  the  elder  and  apparaunt  heire 
Stoode  in  the  likelihode  to  possesse  the  whole; 
Yea  and  that  sonne  which  from  his  childish  age 
Envieth  myne  honour,  and  doth  hate  my  life, 
What  will  he  now  do?  when  his  pride,  his  rage. 
The  mindfull  malice  or  his  grudging  harte     ». 

*  "  Within,"  edit  1590. 


134  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  [aCT   II, 


Is  armed  with  force,  with  wealth  and  kingly  state  ? 

Hermon.    Was    this    not    wrong?    yea   yll    advised 
wrong, 
To  give  so  mad  a  man  so  sharpe  a  sworde, 
To  so  great  perill  of  so  great  missehappe, 
Wide  open  thus  to  set  so  large  a  waye  ? 

Dordan.  Alas,  my  lord,  what  griefull  thing  is  this 
That  of  your  brother  you  can  thinke  so  ill  ? 
I  never  saw  him  utter  likelie  signe 
Whereby  a  man  might  see  or  once  misdeme 
Such  hate  of  you,  ne  such  unyelding  pride  : 
111  is  their  counsell,  shameful!  be  their  ende, 
That  raysmg  such  mistrustful  feare  in  you, 
Sowing  the  seede  of  such  unkindly  hate, 
Travaile  by  treason  to  destroy  you  both. 
Wise  is  your  brother  and  of  noble  hope, 
Worthie  to  welde  a  large  and  mighty  realme ; 
So  much  a  stronger  frende  have  you  therby, 
Whose  strength  is  your  strength,  if  you  gree  in  one. 

Hermon.  If  nature  and  the  goddes  had  pinched  so 
Their  flowing  bountie  and  their  noble  giftes 
Of  princelie  qualities  from  you,  my  lorde. 
And  povvrde  them  all  at  ones  in  wastfuU  wise 
Upon  your  fathers  yonger  sonne  alone, 
Perhappes  there  be  that  in  your  prejudice 
Would  say  that  birth  should  yeld  to  worthinese: 
But  sithe  in  eche  good  gift  and  princelie  arte  * 
Ye  are  his  matche,  and  in  the  chiefe  of  all 
In  mildnesse  and  in  sobre  governaunce. 
Ye  farre  surmount ;  and  sith  there  is  in  you  ♦ 
Sufficing  skill  and  hopefull  towardnesse, 
To  weld  the  whole  and  match  your  elders  prayse  ; 
I  see  no  cause  why  ye  should  loose  the  halfe, 
Ne  would  I  wishe  you  yelde  to  such  a  losse. 
Lest  your  milde  sufferaunce  of  so  great  a  wronge 
Be  deemed  cowardishe  and  simple  dreade ; 
Which  shall  geve  courage  to  the  fiery  head 
Of  your  yonge  brother  to  invade  the  whole. 

*  "  Acte/'  edit.  1590. 


S.C.  I.]  FERREX   AND   PORREX.  135 


While  yet  therfore  stickes  in  the  peoples  minde 
The  lothed  wrong  of  your  disheritaiince, 
And  ere  your  brother  have  by  settled  power, 
By  g:uilefull  cloke  of  an  alluring  showe, 
Got  him  some  force  and  favour  in  the  realme : 
And  while  the  noble  queene  your  mother  lyves, 
To  worke  and  practise  all  for  your  availe, 
Attempt  redresse  by  arms,  and  wreake  yourself'^ 
Upon  his  life  that  gayneth  by  your  losse, 
Who  nowe  to  shame  of  you,  and  griefe  of  us, 
In  your  owne  kingdome  triumphes  over  you. 
Shew  now  your  courage  meete  for  kingly  state, 
That  they  which  have  avowed  to  spend  theyr  goods, 
Their  landes,  their  lives  and  honours  in  your  cause, 
May  be  the  bolder  to  mainteyne  your  parte 
When  they  do  see  that  cowarde  feare  in  you 
Shall  not  betray,  ne  faile  their  faithfuU  hartes. 
If  once  the  death  of  Porrex  ende  the  strife. 
And  pay  the  price  of  his  usurped  reigne. 
Your  mother  shall  perswade  the  angry  kyng, 
The  lords  your  frends  eke  shall  appease  his  rage 
For  they  be  wise  and  well  they  can  forsee. 
That  ere  long  time  your  aged  fathers  death 
Will  bryng  a  time  when  you  shall  well  requite 
Their  friendlie  favour,  or  their  hateful  spite, 
Yea,  or  their  slacknesse  to  avaunce  your  cause. 
*'  Wise  men  do  not  so  hang  on  passing  state 
"  Of  present  princes,  chiefely  in  their  age, 
"  But  they  will  further  cast  their  reaching  eye 
"  To  viewe  and  weye  the  times  and  reignes  to  come." 
Ne  is  it  likely  though  the  king  be  wrothe, 
That  he  yet  will,  or  that  the  realme  will  beare 
Extreme  revenge  upon  his  onely  sonne  ; 
Or  if  he  woulde,  what  one  is  he  that  dare 
Be  minister  to  such  an  enterprise  ? 
And  here  you  be  now  placed  in  your  owne, 
Amyd  your  frendes,  your  vassalles  and  your  strength 
We  shall  defende  and  kepe  your  person  safe, 
Till  either  counsell  turne  his  tender  minde, 
19  loreake  yourself]  i.  e.  levenge  yourself. 


136  FERREX   AISD  PORREX.  [aCT  II. 


Or  age  or  sorrow  ende  his  werie  dayes. 

But  if  the  feare  of  goddes,  and  secret  grudge 

Of  natures  law.  repining  at  the  fact, 

Witholde  your  courage  from  so  great  attenapt; 

Know  ye  that  hjst  of  kingdomes  hath  no  law, 

The  goddes  do  beare  and  well  allow  in  kinges 

The  thin^es  that  they  abhorre  in  rascall  routes. 

"  When  kinges  on  slender  quarrels  runne  to  wanes* 

"  And  then  in  cruell  and  unkindely  wise 

'*  Commaund  theftes,  nipes.  murder  of  innocents, 

*'  To  spoile  of  townes,  mines  of  mighty  realms, 

*'  Thinke  you  such  princes  do  suppose  themselves 

"  Subject  to  lawes  of  kinde  and  feare  of  gods?" 

Murders  and  violent  theftes  in  private  men 

Are  hainous  crimes  and  full  of  foule  reproch  ; 

Yet  none  offence,  but  deckt  with  glorious  name 

Of  noble  conquestes  in  the  handes  of  kinges.* 

But  if  you  like  not  yet  so  bote  devise, 

Ne  list  to  take  such  vauntage  of  the  time, 

But,  though  with  perdl  of  your  owne  estate. 

You  will  not  be  the  first  that  shall  invade. 

Assemble  yet  your  force  for  your  defence, 

And  for  your  safetie  stand  upon  your  garde. 

Dofdan.  O  heaven  !  was  there  ever  heard  orknowne, 
So  wicked  counsell  to  a  noble  prince? 
Let  me  (my  lord)  disclose  unto  your  grace 
This  hainous  tale,  what  mischiefe  it  contanes; 
Your  fathers  death,  your  brothers,  and  your  owne, 
Your  present  murder  and  eternall  shame. 
Heare  me  (O  king)  and  suffer  not  to  sinke 
So  high  a  treason  in  your  princely  brest. 

Ferrex.  The  mighty  goddes  forbid  that  ever  I 
Should  once  conceave  such  mischiefe  in  my  hart ! 
Although  my  brother  hath  bereft  my  realme, 
And  beare  perhappes  to  me  an  hatefuU  minde,    • 
Shall  I  revenge  it  with  his  death  therefore? 
Or  shall  I  so  destroy  my  father's  life 
That  gave  me  life  ?  The  gods  forbid,  I  say  ; 

•  In  the  copy  of  1590,  this  and  the  three  preceding  lines  are 
transposed  so  as  to  make  nonsense  of  the  passage.    C. 


SC.  I.]  FERREX  ANDPORREX.  137 


Cease  you  to  speake  so  any  more  to  me, 
Ne  you  my  frend  with  answere  once  repeate 
So  f'oule  a  tale.     In  silence  let  it  dye: 
What  lord  or  subject  shall  have  hope  at  all, 
That  under  me  they  safely  shall  enjoye 
Their  goods,  their  honours,  landes  and  liberties, 
With  whom,  neither  one  onely  b[Other  deare, 
Ne  father  dearer,  could  enjoye  their  lives? 
But  sith,  I  feare  my  yonger  iDrother's  rage, 
And  siih  perhapes  some  other  man  may  geve 
Some  like  advise,  to  move  his  grudging  head 
At  mine  estate,  which  counsell  may  perchaunce 
Take  greater  force  with  him,  then  this  with  me, 
1  will  in  secrete  so  prepare  myselfe, 
As  if  his  malice  or  his  lust  to  reigne, 
Breake  forth  in  armes  or  sodeine  violence 
I  may  withstand  his  rage  and  keepe  mine  owne. 

Dordan.   I  feare  the  fatal  time  now  draweth  on, 
When  civill  hate  shall  end  the  noble  line 
Of  famous  Brute  and  of  his  royall  seede ; 
Great  Jove  defend  the  mischiefes  now  at  hand! 
O,  that  the  secretaries  wise  advise 
Had  erst  bene  heard,  when  he  besought  the  king 
Not  to  divide  his  land,  nor  send  his  sonnes 
To  further  partes  from  presence  of  his  court, 
Ne  yet  to  yelde  to  them  his  governaunce. 
Lo  such  are  they  now  in  the  royall  throne 
As  was  rashe  Phaeton  in  Phoebus  carre ; 
Ne  then  the  fiery  stedes  did  draw  the  flame 
With  wilder  randon  through  the  kindled  skies. 
Than  traitorous  counsell  now  will  whirle  about 
The  youthfull  heades  of  these  unskilfull  kinges. 
But  i  hereof  their  father  will  enforme  ; 
The  reverence  of  him  perhappes  shall  stay 
The  growing  mischiefes,  while  they  yet  are  greene : 
If  this  helpe  not,  then  woe  unto  themselves. 
The  prince,  the  people,  the  divided  land. 


138  lERREX   AND  PORREX.  [aCT  II 


ACTUS  SECUNDUS.    SCENA  SECUNDA. 

PoRREx.    Tyndar.    Philander. 

Porrex,  And  is  it  thus  ?  and  doth  he  so  prepare 
Against  his  brother  as  his  mortall  foe  ? 
And  now  while  yet  his  aged  father  lives? 
Neither  regardes  he  him,  nor  feares  he  me? 
Warre  would  he  have?  and  he  shall  have  it  so. 

Tyndar.  I  saw  myselfe  the  great  prepared  store 
Of  horse,  of  armour,  and  of  weapons  there, 
Ne  bring  I  to  my  lord  reported  tales, 
Without  the  ground  of  seen  and  searched  trouth. 
Loe  secrete  quarrells  runne  about  his  court, 
To  bring  the  name  of  you  my  lorde  in  hate; 
Ech  man  almost  can  now  debate  the  cause, 
And  aske  a  reason  of  so  great  a  wrong. 
Why  he  so  noble,  and  so  wise  a  prince, 
Is  as  unworthy  reft  his  heritage. 
And  why  the  king,  misseledde  by  craftie  meanes, 
Divided  thus  his  land  from  course  of  right? 
The  wiser  sort  holde  downe  their  griefull  heades, 
Eche  man  withdrawes  from  talke  and  company 
Of  those  that  have  bene  knowne  to  favour  you 
To  hide  the  mischiefe  of  their  meaning  there- 
Rumours  are  spread  of  your  preparing  here: 
The  rascall  numbers  of  unskilfuU  sort 
Are  filled  with  monstrous  tales  of  you  and  yours. 
In  secrete  I  was  counselled  by  my  frendes 
To  hast  me  thence,  and  brought  you  as  you  know 
Letters  from  those  that  both  can  truely  tell. 
And  would  not  write  unlesse  they  knew  it  well. 

Philander,  My  lord,  yet  ere  you  move  unkindly  warre, 
Send  to  your  brother  to  demaund  the  cause  : 
Perhappes  some  traiterous  tales  have  filled  his  eares 
With  false  reportes  against  your  noble  grace. 
Which  once  disclosed  shall  end  the  growing  strife, 
That  els  not  stayed  with  wise  foresight  in  time 
Shall  hazarde  both  your  kingdom.es  and  your  lives. 
Send  to  your  father  eke,  he  shall  appease 


SC.  II.]  FERREX   AND  PORREX.  139 


Your  kindled  mindes,  and  rid  you  of  this  feare. 

Porrex.  Ridde  me  of  feare?  I  feare  him  not  at  all, 
Ne  will  to  him,  ne  to  my  father  send : 
If  danger  were  for  one  to  tary  there, 
Thinke  ye  it  safetie  to  returne  againe? 
In  mischiefes  such  as  Ferrex  now  intendes, 
The  wonted  courteous  lawes  to  messengers 
Are  not  observed,  which  in  just  warre  they  use. 
Shall  I  so  hazard  any  one  of  mine  ? 
Shall  I  betray  my  trusty  frendes  to  him 
That  hath  disclosed  his  treason  unto  me? 
Let  him  entreate  that  feares,  I  feare  him  not : 
Or  shall  I  to  the  king  my  father  send? 
Yea  and  send  now  while  such  a  mother  lives, 
That  loves  my  brother  and  that  hateth  me? 
Shall  I  geve  leasure  by  my  fonde  delayes 
To  Ferrex  to  oppresse  me  all  unware? 
I  will  not,  but  I  will  invade  his  realme 
And  seeke  the  traitour  prince  within  his  court : 
Mischiefe  for  mischiefe  is  a  due  reward. 
His  wretched  head  shall  pay  the  worthy  price 
Of  this  his  treason  and  his  hate  to  me. 
Shall  I  abide,  and  treate,  and  send  and  pray, 
And  holde  my  yelden  throate  to  traitours  knife ; 
While  I  with  valiant  minde  and  conquering  force 
Might  rid  myselfe  of  foes   and  winne  a  realme? 
Yet  rather  when  I  have  the  wretches  head, 
Then  to  the  king  my  father  will  I  send, 
The  bootelesse  case  may  yet  appease  his  wrath ; 
If  not,  I  will  defend  me  as  I  may. 

Philander.  Lo  here  the  end  of  these  two  youthful 
kings, 
The  fathers  death,  the  ruine  of  their  realmes. 
**  O  most  unhappy  state  of  counsellors, 
"  That  light  on  so  unhappy  lordes  and  times, 
"  That  neither  can  their  good  advise  be  heard, 
"  Yet  must  they  beare  the  blames  of  ill  successe !" 
But  I  will  to  the  king  their  father  haste. 
Ere  this  mischiefe  come  to  the  likely  end, 
That  if  the  mindful!  wrath  of  wrekefuU  gods, 

4 


140  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  [aCT  HI. 


Since  mightie  Ilions  fall  not  yet  appeased 

With  these  poore  remnaiites  of  the  Trojan  name 

Have  not  determin'd  by  unmoved  fate 

Out  of  this  realme  to  raise  the  Brittishe*  line, 

By  good  advise,  by  awe  of  father's  name, 

By  force  of  wiser  lordes,  this  kindled  hate 

May  yet  be  quenched  ere  it  consume  us  ail. 

Chorus.  When  youth  not  bridled  with  a  guiding  stay 
Is  left  to  randon  of  their  own  delight. 
And  welds  whole  realmes  by  force  of  sovereign  sway, 
Great  is  the  daunger  of  unmaistred  might. 
Lest  skillesse  rage  throwes  downe  with  headlong  fall 
Their  lands,  their  states,  their  lives,  themselves  and  all. 

When  growing  pride  doth  fill  the  swelhng  brest, 
And  gredy  lust  doth  rayse  the  climbing  minde, 
Oh  hardlie  maye  the  perill  be  represt, 
Ne  feare  of  angrie  goddes,  ne  lawes  kinde, 
Ne  countries  care  can  fired  hartes  restrayne 
Whan  force  hath  armed  envie  and  disdaine  : 

When  kinges  of  foresette*'^  will  neglect  the  rede^^ 
Of  best  advise,  and  yelde  to  pleasing  tales, 
That  do  their  fansies  noysome  humour  feede, 
Ne  reason,  nor  regarde  of  right  availes: 
Succeding  heapes  of  plagues  shall  teach  to  late 
To  learne  the  mischiefes  of  misguided  state. 

Fowle  fall  the  traitour  false  that  undermines 
The  love  of  brethren  to  destroye  them  both. 
Wo  to  the  prince,  that  pliant  care  enciynes 
And  yeldes  his  minde  to  poysonous  tale  that  floweth 
From  flattering  mouth  ;  and  woe  to  wretched  land 
That  wastes  itselfe  with  civill  sworde  in  hande, 

Loe,  thus  it  is,  poyson  in  golde  to  take, 

And  holsome  drinke  in  homely  cuppe  forsake. 

•  "  Brutishe"  Edit.  1590. 

"^  foresette]  i   e.  foresight. 

Mr.Reed's  opiuion  that/oresefte  is  to  be  understood/oresig/it  seems 
very  questionable  :  the  meaning  of  the  line  seems  rather  to  be 
"  when  kings  of  fore-set  purpose  will  neglect  to  listen  to  the  best  ad- 
"  vice."  There  is  no  instance  in  any  other  author  where  foresight 
is  spehforesette.     C- 

2'  rede],  i.  e.  advice.     See  Note  42  to  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle, 

vol.  ir. 


SC,    I.]  FERREX   AND  PORREX,  14L 


The  Order  and  Signification  of  the  Domme    Shewe 
before  the  thirde  Act. 

First,  the  mus'icke  of  flutes  began  to  playe,  during  which 
came  in  upon  the  stage  a  company  of  mourners  all 
clad  in  hlacke,  betokening  death  and  sorrowe  to  ensue 
upon  the  ill  advised  misgovernement  and  discention  of 
brethrene,  as  befell  upon  the  murder  of  Ferrex,  by  his 
yonger  brother.  After  the  mourners  had  passed  thryse 
about  the  stage,  they  departed,  and  then  the  musicke 
ceased. 


ACTUS  TERTIUS.     SCENA  PRIMA. 

GoRBODUc.      EuBULUs.     Arosilts.     Philander. 

NUNTIUS. 

Gorboduc,  O  cruell  fates,  O  mindful  wrath  of  goddes. 
Whose  vengeance  neither  Simois  slayned  streaiues 
Flowing  with  bloud  of  Trojan  princes  slaine ; 
Nor  Phrygian  fieldes  made  ranck  with  corpses  dead 
Of  Asian  kinges  and  lordes  can  yet  appease, 
Ne  slaughter  of  unhappie  Pryam's  race, 
Nor  Ilions  fall  made  levell  with  the  soile, 
Can  yet  suffise  :  but  still  continued  rage 
Pursues  our  lyves,  and  from  the  farthest  seas 
Doth  chase  the  issues  of  destroied  Troye. 
Oh  no  man  happie  till  his  ende  be  scene? 
If  any  flowing  wealth  and  seemynge  joye 
In  present  yeres  might  make  a  happy  wight, 
Happie  was  Hecuba,  the  wonderfullest  wretch 
That  ever  lyved  to  make  a  myrrour  of, 
And  happie  Pryam  with  his  noble  sonnes, 
And  happie  I  till  nowe.     Alas,  I  see 
And  feele  my  most  unhappie  wretchednesse ! 
Beholde,  my  lordes,  read  ye  this  letter  here, 
Loe  it  conieins  the  ruine  of  our  realme, 
If  timelie  spede  provide  not  hastie  helpe. 
Yet,  (O  ye  goddes,)  if  ever  wofull  kyng 


142  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  [aCT  III. 


Might  move  ye,  kings  of  kinges,  wreke  it  on  me 
And  on  my  sonnes,  not  on  this  giltlesse  reahne. 
Send  downe  your  wasting  flames  from  vvrathfull  skies, 
To  reve  me  and  my  sonnes  the   hateful  breath. 
Read,  read  my  lordes ;  this  is  the  matter  why 
I  called  ye  nowe,  to  have  your  good  advyse. 

The  letter  from  Dor  dan  the  counsellour  of  the  elder  prince. 
[Eubulus  readeth  the  letter. 

My  soveraigne  lord,  what  I  am  loth  to  write 
But  lothest  am  to  see,  that  I  am  forced 
By  letters  nowe  to  make  you  understande. 
My  lord  Ferrex,  your  eldest  sonne,  misledde 
By  traitorous  fraude  of  yong  unterapred  wittes, 
Assembleth  force  agaynst  your  yonger  sonne, 
Ne  can  my  counsell  yet  withdrawe  the  heate 
And  furious  panges  of  his  enflamed  head: 
Disdaine  (saith  he)  of  his  disheritance, 
Arraes  him  to  wreke  the  great  pretended  wrong* 
With  civyll  sword  upon  his  brother's  life. 
If  present  helpe  do  not  restraine  this  rage. 
This  flame  will  wast  your  sonnes,  your  land  and  you. 
Your  maj est j/s  faithfully  and  most  humble  subject j 

Dor  dan. 

Arostus.  O  king,  appease  your  griefe  and  stay  your 
plaint. 
Great  is  the  matter  and  a  wofull  case ; 
But  timely  knowledge  may  bring  timely  helpe. 
Send  for  them  both  unto  your  presence  here  : 
The  reverence  of  your  honour,  age,  and  state. 
Your  grave  advice,  the  awe  of  father's  name 
Shall  quicklie  knit  agayne  this  broken  peace: 
And  if  in  either  of  my  lordes  your  sonnes 
Be  suche  untamed  and  unyelding  pride 
As  will  not  bende  unto  your  noble  hestes^*; 

*  i.  e.  intended  wrong.  See  note  48  to  the  Jew  of  Malta,  vol. 
VIII.  -where  various  instances  of  tte  use  of  'pretend  for  intend  are 
given,     C. 

-■-  he&tes,']  Commands.  See  note  5  to  Tancred  and  Gismunda 
vol.  II. 


SC.  r.]  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  143 

If  Ferrex  th'  elder  sonne  can  bear  no  peere, 
Or  Porrex  not  content,  aspire  to  more 
Than  you  him  gave  above  his  native  right, 
Joyne  with  the  juster  side  ;  so  shall  you  force 
Them  to  agree,  and  holde  the  lande  in  stay. 

Eubulus.  What  meaneth  this  ?  loe  yonder  comes  in 
hast 
Philander  from  my  lord  your  yonger  sonne. 

Gorboduc.  The  goddes  sende  joyful  newes  ! 

Philander.  The  mightie  Jove 
Preserve  your  majestie,  O  noble  king. 

Gorboduc.  Philander,  welcome  :  but  how  doth  my 
sonne  ? 

Philander.  Your  sonne,  sir,  lyves  and  healthie  I  him 
left: 
But  yet  (O  king)  this  want  of  lustfull  health 
Could  not  be  halfe  so  griefefull  to  your  grace, 
As  these  most  wretched  tidynges  that  I  bryng. 

Gorboducy  0  heavens,  yet  more  ?  no  ende  of  woes  to 
me  1 

Philander.  Tyndar,  O  king,   came  lately  from  the 
court 
Of  Ferrex,  to  my  lord  your  yonger  sonne, 
And  made  reporte  of  great  prepared  store 
For  warre,  and  sayth  that  it  is  wholly  ment 
Agaynst  Porrex,  for  high  disdayne  that  he 
Lyves  now  a  king  and  egall  in  degree 
With  him,  that  claimeth  to  succede  the  whole, 
As  by  due  title  of  discending  right. 
Porrex  is  nowe  so  set  on  flaming  fire, 
Partely  with  kindled  rage  of  cruell  wrath, 
Partely  with  hope  to  gaine  a  realme  thereby, 
That  he  in  hast  prepareth  to  invade 
His  brother's  land,  and  with  unkindely  warre 
Threatens  the  murder  of  your  elder  sonne  : 
Ne  could  I  him  perswade  that  first  he  should 
Send  to  his  brother  to  demaunde  the  cause  : 
Nor  yet  to  you  to  stale  this  hateful  strife. 
Wherefore  sith  there  no  more  I  can  be  hearde, 
I  come  myselfe  now  to  enforme  your  grace, 


144  FERREX   AND   PORREX,  [aCT  III. 


And  to  beseche  you,  as  you  love  the  life 
And  safetie  of  your  children  and  your  realme, 
Now  to  employ  your  wisdome  and  your  force 
To  slaye  this  mischiefe  ere  it  be  too  late. 

Gorboduc.  Are  they  in  amies  ?   would  he  not  sende 
to  me? 
Is  this  the  honour  of  a  father's  name  ? 
In  vain  we  travaiie  to  asswage  their  mindes, 
As  if  their  hartes,  whom  neither  brother's  love, 
Nor  father's  awe,  nor  kinodomes  care  can  move, 
Our  counsells  could  withdrawe  from  raging  heat. 
Jove  slay  them  both,  and  end  the  cursed  line  ! 
For  though  perhappes  feare  of  such  mightie  force 
As  I,  my  lordes,  joyned  with  your  noble  aides, 
Maye  yet  raise,  shall  represse  their  present  heate, 
The  secret  grudge  and  malice  will  remayne : 
The  fire  not  quenched,  but  kept  in  close  restraint 
Fedde  still  within,  breakes  forth  with  double  flame. 
Their  death  and  myne  must  peaze  "^  the  angrie  gods. 

Philander.  Yelde,  not,  O  king,  so  much  to  weake 
dispeire  ; 
Your  sonnes  yet  lyve,  and  long  I  trust  they  shall. 
If  fates  had  taken  you  from  earthly  life, 
Before  beginning  of  this  civyll  strife. 
Perhaps  your  sonnes,  in  their  unmaistered  youth, 
Loose  from  regarde  of  any  lyvyng  wight, 
Would  runne  on  headlong,  with  unbridled  race 
To  their  owne  death,  and  ruine  of  this  realme : 
But  sith  the  gods  that  have  the  care  for  kinges, 
Of  thinges  and  times  dispose  the  order  so 
That  in  your  life  this  kindled  flame  breakes  forth. 
While  yet  your  lyfe,  your  wisdome  and  your  power 
May  stay  the  growing  mischiefe,  and  represse 
The  fierie  blaze  of  their  inkindled  heate, 
It  seemes,  and  so  ye  ought  to  deeme  thereof, 
That  lovyng  Jove  hath  tempred  so  the  time 

23  peaie.']  i.  e.  appease.     S. 

It  is  used  iu  the  same  way  in  the  first  scene  of  the  next  act.  The 
printer  of  the  copy  of  1590,  perhaps,  not  thinking  that  it  would  be 
understood,  printed  it  appease.    C. 


SC.  I.]  FERREX  AND  PORREX*  145 

Of  this  debate  to  happen  in  your  dayes. 
That  you  yet  lyving  may  the  same  appeaze, 
And  adde  it  to  the  glory  of  your  age"*, 
And  they  your  sonnes  may  learne  to  live  in  peace. 
Beware  (O  king)  the  greatest  harme  of  all, 
Lest  by  your  waylefull  plaints  your  hastened  death 
Yelde  large  roume  unto  their  growing  rage  :  * 
Preserve  your  life,  the  onely  hope  of  stay : 
And  if  your  highnes  herein  list  to  use 
Wisdome  or  force,  counsell  or  knightly  aide, 
Loe  we,  our  persons,  powers,  and  lyves  are  yours ; 
Use  us  tyll  death,  O  king,  we  are  your  owne. 

Eubiilus.  Loe  here  the  perill  ihat  was  erst  foresene. 
When  you  (O  king)  did  first  devide  your  lande, 
And  yelde  your  present  reigne  unto  your  sonnes. 
But  now  (O  noble  prince)  now  is  no  time 
To  waile  and  plaine,  and  wast  your  wofull  life, 
Now  is  the  time  for  present  good  advise, 
Sorow  doth  darke  the  judgement  of  the  wytte  ; 
*'  The  hart  unbroken  and  the  courage  free 
*<  From  febie  faintenesse  of  bootelesse  despeire 
"  Doth  either  ryse  to  safetie  or  renowne, 
"  By  noble  valure  of  unvanquisht  minde, 
"  Or  yet  doth  perishe  in  more  happy  sort." 
Your  grace  may  send  to  either  of  your  sonnes 
Some  one  both  whe  and  noble  personage, 
Which  with  good  counsell  and  with  weightie  name 
Of  father  shall  present  before  their  eyes 
Your  best,  your  life,  your  safetie,  and  their  owne; 
The  present  mischiefe  of  their  deadly  strife  : 
And  in  the  while  assemble  you  the  force 
Which  your  commaundement  and  the  spedy  hast 
Of  all  my  lordes  here  present  can  prepare : 
The  terrour  of  your  mightie  power  shall  staye 
The  rage  of  both,  or  yet  of  one  at  lest. 

**  your  age,]     The  second  and  third  editions  read,  your  latter  age. 
The  alteration  by  Mr.  Spence, 

*  The  edit,  of  1590  has  this  line  thus  : 

"  Yelde  larger  roume  unto  this  growing  rage  ;" 
which  is  an  improvement  of  the  metre  ;  and  so  Mr.  Hawkins  re- 
printed it  in  tis  Origin  of  the  English  Drama.     C. 

VOL.  I.  L 


146  FERREX  AND   PORREX.  [aCT  IV. 


Nuntius.  O  king,  the  greatest  griefe  that  ever  princd 
dyd  heare, 
That  ever  wofuU  messenger  did  tell, 
That  ever  v^^retched  land  hath  sene  before 
I  bryng  to  you.     Porrex  your  yonger  sonne 
With  soden  force  invaded  hath  the  lande 
That  you  to  Ferrex  did  allotte  to  rule  : 
And  v^ith  his  owne  most  bloudy  hand  he  hath 
His  brother  slaine,  and  doth  possesse  his  realme. 

Gorboduc.  O  heavens  send  down  the  flames  of  your 
revenge ! 
Destroy,  I  say,  with  flash  of  wreakefull  fier 
The  traitour  sonne,  and  then  the  wretched  sire. 
But  let  us  go,  that  yet  perhappes  I  may 
Die  with  revenge,  and  peaze  the  hatefull  gods. 

Chorus.  The   lust  of  kingdome  knowes   no   sacred 
faith. 
No  rule  of  reason,  no  regarde  of  right, 
No  kindely  love,  no  feare  of  heaven's  wrath, 
But  with  contempt  of  goddes,  and  man's  despite. 
Through  blodie  slaughter  doth  prepare  the  waies, 
To  fatal!  scepter  and  accursed  reigne. 
The  sonne  so  lothes  the  father's  lingering  daies, 
Ne  dreades  his  hand  in  brother's  blode  to  staine. 
0  wretched  prince,  ne  dost  thou  yet  recorde 
The  yet  fresh  murthers  done  within  the  lande 
Of  thy  forefathers,  when  the  cruell  sworde 
^^  Bereft  Morgan  his  life  with  cosyn's  hand? 
Thus  fatall  plagues  pursue  the  giltie  race. 
Whose  murderous  hand,  imbrued  with  giltlesse  blood, 
Askes  vengeance  still  before  the  heavens  face, 
With  endlesse  mischiefes  on  the  cursed  broode. 
The  wicked  childe  thus  bringes  to  wofull  sire 
The  mournefull  plaintes  to  wast  his  very  life  : 
Thus  do  the  cruell  flames  of  civyll  fier 
Destroy  the  parted  reigne  with  hatefull  strife. 
And  hence  doth  spring  the  well  from  which  doth  flow, 
The  dead  black  streames  of  mourning,  plaints    and 
woe. 
2*  Bereft  Morgan  his  life,  &c.]     See  Act  2.  Sc.  2. 


SC.   1.1  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  147 


The  Order  and  Signification  of  the  Domme  Shew 
before  the  fourth  Act. 

First  the  mus'ick  of  howeboies  began  to  playe,  during 
which  there  came  from  under  the  stage,  as  though  out 
of  hell,  three  furies,  Alecto,  Megera,  and  Ctisiphone, 
clad  in  blacke  garmentes  sprinkled  with  bloud  and 
flames,  their  bodies  girt  with  snakes,  their  heds  sprnd 
with  serpentes  in  stead  of  heir e,  the  one  bearing  in  her 
hand  a  snake,  the  other  a  whip,  and  the  third  a  burn- 
ing  firebrand;  er.h  driving  before  them  a  king  and  a 
queene,  ivhich  moved  by  furies  unnaturally  had  slaine 
their  owne  children.  The  names  of  the  kings  and 
queenes  were  these,  Tantalus,  Medea,  Athamas,  Ino, 
Cambises,  Althea ;  after  that  the  furies  and  these  had 
passed  about  the  stage  thrise,  Iheij  departed,  and  than 
the  musick  ceased  :  hereby  was  signified  the  unnaturall 
murders  to  follow,  that  is  to  say,  Porrex,  slaine  by  his 
owne  viother ;  and  of  king  Gorboduc,  and  queen 
Vldena,  killed  by  their  owne  subjects. 


ACTUS  QUARTUS.    SCENA  PRIMA. 

VlDENA  sola. 

Why  should  I  lyve  and  linger  forth  my  time 
In  longer  life  to  double  my  distresse? 
O  me  most  wofuU  wight !  whome  no  mishappe 
Long  ere  this  day  could  have  bereved  hence. 
Mought  not  these  handes  by  fortune  or  by  fate 
Have  perst  this  brest,  and  life  with  iron  reft  ? 
Or  in  this  palace  here  where  I  so  long 
Have  spent  my  daies,  could  not  that  happie  houre 
Once,  once  have  hapt  in  which  these  hugie  frames 
AVith  death  by  fall  might  have  oppressed  me  ? 
Or  should  not  this  most  hard  and  cruoll  soile, 
So  oft  where  I  have  prest  my  wretched  steps, 
Some  time  had  ruthe  of  myne  accursed  life, 
To  rende  in  twayne  and  swallow  me  therein  ? 
So  had  my  bones  possessed  now  in  peace 
Their  happie  grave  within  the  closed  grounde, 


148  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  [aCT   IV, 


And  greadie  wormes  had  gnavven  this  pyned  hart 

Without  my  feeling  payne :  so  should  not  now 

This  lyving  brest  remayne  the  ruthfull  tombe 

Wherin  my  hart,  yelden  to  death,  is  graved ; 

Nor  driery  thoughts  with  panges  of  pining  griefe 

My  doleful!  minde  had  not  afflicted  thus. 

O  my  beloved  sonne,  O  my  swete  childe, 

My  deare  Ferrex,  my  joye,  my  lyves  delight, 

Is  my  beloved  sonne,  is  my  sweete  childe, 

My  deare  Ferrex,  my  joye,  my  lyves  delight 

Murdred  with  cruell  death  ?  O  hatefuU  wretch, 

O  heynous  traitour  both  to  heaven  and  earth, 

Thou  Porrex,  thou  this  damned  dede  hast  wrought, 

Thou  Porrex,  thou  shalt  dearly  bye^^  the  same! 

Traitour  to  kinne  and  kinde,  to  sire  and  me, 

To  thine  owne  fleshe,  and  traitour  to  thyself. 

The  Gods  on  thee  in  hell  shall  wreke  the  wrath, 

And  here  in  earth  this  hand  shall  take  revenge 

On  thee  Porrex,  thou  false  and  caitife  wight. 

If  after  bloud  so  eigre  were  thy  thirst, 

And  murderous  minde  had  so  possessed  thee. 

If  such  hard  hart  of  rocke  and  stonie  flint 

Lived  in  thy  brest,  that  nothing  els  could  like 

Thy  cruel  tyrantes  thought  but  death  and  bloud, 

Wilde  savage  beasts  mought  not  their  slaughter  serve, 

To  fede  thy  greedie  will,  and  in  the  middest 

Of  their  entrailes  to  staine  thy  deadly  handes 

With  blood  deserved,  and  drinke  thereof  thy  fill  ? 

Or  if  nought  els  but  death  and  bloud  of  man 

Mought  please  thy  lust,  could  none  in  Brittaine  land. 

Whose  hart  betorne  out  of  his  panting  brest 

With  thine  owne  hand,  or  worke   what  death   thou 

wouldst. 
Suffice  to  make  a  sacrifice  to  peaze  * 
That  deadly  minde  and  murderous  thought  In  thee. 
But  he  who  in  the  selfe  same  wombe  was  wrapped, 
Where  thou  in  dismall  hower  receivedst  life? 
Or  if  nedes,  nedes  thy  hand  must  slaughter  make, 
Moughtest  thou  not  have  reached  a  mortall  wound, 

25  bye]   aby.     See  Note  1 1  to  George  a  Green,  vol.  III. 
♦  "  Appease,"  edit.  1590. 


SC.   II.]  FERREX   AND   PORREX. 


149 


And  with  thy  sword  have  pearsed  this  cursed  wombe 

That  the,  accursed  Porrex,  brought  to  hght, 

And  geven  me  a  just  reward  therefore? 

So,  Ferrex,  yet  sweet  Hfe  mought  have  enjoyed 

And  to  his  aged  father  comfort  brought, 

With  some  yong  sonne  in  whom  they  both  might  Hve. 

But  whereunto  waste  I  this  ruthfull  speche 

To  thee  that  hast  thy  brother's  bloud  thus  shed? 

Shall  I  still  thinke  that  from  this  wombe  thou  sproug  ? 

That  T  thee  bare,  or  take  thee  for  my  sonne  ? 

No  traitour,  no  :  I  thee  refuse  for  mine: 

Murderer,  I  thee  renounce,  thou  art  not  mine. 

Never,  O  wretch,  this  wombe  conceived  thee, 

^Nor  never  bode  I  painfull  throwes  for  thee; 

Changeling  to  me  thou  art,  and  not  n^y  childe, 

Nor  to  no  wight  that  spark  of  pitie  knew, 

Ruthelesse  unkinde,  monster  of  natures  worke, 

^'  Thou  never  suckt  the  milke  of  woman's  brest, 

But  from  thy  birth  the  cruell  tigers  teates 

Have  nursed  thee,  nor  yet  of  fleshe  and  bloud 

Formde  is  thy  hart,  but  of  hard  iron  wrought ; 

And  wilde  and  desert  woods  bredde  thee  to  life. 

But  canst  thou  hope  to  scape  my  just  revenge, 

Or  that  these  hands  will  not  be  wrooke'^^  on  thee? 

Doest  thou  not  know  that  Ferrex  mother  lives 

That  loved  him  more  dearly  than  herselfe? 

And  doth  she  live,  and  is  not  venged  on  thee  ? 

ACTUS  QUARTUS.    SCENA  SECUNDA. 

GoRBODuc.  Arostus.  Eubulus.  Porrex. 
Marcella. 
Gorboduc.  We  marvell  much  wherto  this  lingring  stay 
Falles  out  so  long:  Porrex  unto  our  court 
By  order  of  our  letters  is  returned  ; 

'^  Nor  never  bode  I,  &c.]    bode,  from  the  verb  to  bide.     S. 

*7  Thou  never  suckt  the  milke  of  woman's  brest,  &c.] 

Nee  tibi  diva  parens,  generis  nee  Dardanus  auctor, 

Perfide,  sed  duns  genuit  te  cautibus  horrens 

Caucasus,  Hyrcanaeque  admorunt  ubera  tigres.     Virgil, 

2*  wrooke]  Revenged,  from  the  verb  to  wreak.     S, 


150  FERREX  AND  PORREX.       [aCT   IV; 

And  Eubulus  receaved  from  us  bybest, 
At  his  arrivall  heere  to  geve  him  charge 
Before  our  presence  straight  to  make  repaire, 
And  yet  we  have  no  worde  whereof  he  stayes. 

Jrostus.  Lo  where  he  commes,  ami  Eubulus  with  him. 

Eubulus.  According  to  your  highnesse  best  to  me 
Here  have  I  Porrex  brouiiht,  even  in  such  sort 
As  from  his  weried  horse  he  did  alight, 
For  that  your  grace  did  will  such  hast  therein. 

Gorbuduc.  We  like  and  praise  this  spedy  will  in  you 
To  worke  the  thing  that  to  your  charge  we  gave. 
Porrex,  if  we  so  farre  should  swarve  from  kinde, 
And  from  those  boundes  which  lawes  of  nature  sets, 
As  thou  hast  done  by  vile  and  wretched  deede 
In  cruell  murder  of  thy  brother's  life, 
Our  present  hand  could  stay  no  longer  time. 
But  straight  should  bathe  this  blade  in  bloud  of  thee, 
As  just  revenge  of  thy  detested  crime. 
No,  we  should  not  offend  the  lawe  of  kinde 
If  now  this  sword  of  ours  did  slay  thee  here  : 
For  thou  hast  murdered  him,  whose  henious  death 
Even  nature's  force  doth  move  us  to  revenge 
By  bloud  againe  :  and  justice  forceth  us 
To  measure  death  for  death,  thy  due  desert. 
Yet  sithens  thou  art  our  childe,  and  sith  as  yet. 
In  this  hard  case  what  worde  thou  canst  alledge 
For  thy  defence  by  us  hath  not  bene  heard, 
We  are  content  to  staye  our  will  for  that 
Which  justice  biddes  us  presently  to  worke, 
And  geve  thee  leave  to  use  thy  speche  at  full, 
If  ought  thou  have  to  lay  for  thine  excuse, 

Porrex.  Neither,  O  kmcr,  1  can  or  will  denie 
But  that  this  hand  from  Ferrex  life  hath  reft: 
Which  fact  how  much  my  dolefuU  hart  doth  waile. 
Oh  woulde  it  mought  as  full  appeare  to  sight 
As  inward  griefe  would  poure  it  forth  to  me: 
So  yet  perhappes  if  ever  ruthefuU  hart 
Melting  in  teares  within  a  manly  brest, 
Througii  depe  repentance  of  his  bloudy  fact, 
If  ever  griefe,  if  ever  wofull  man 


SC.  II.]  FERREX   AND  PORREX.  151 


Might  move  regreite  with  sorrowe  of  his  faulte, 

I  thinke  the  torment  of  my  mournefull  case 

Knowen  to  your  grace,  as  I  do  feele  the  same, 

Would  force  even  wrath  herselfe  to  pitie  me. 

But  as  the  water  troubled  with  the  mudde 

Sbewes  not  the  face  which  els  the  eye  should  see, 

Even  so  your  irefull  minde  with  stirred  thought. 

Cannot  so  perfectly  discerne  my  cause. 

But  this  unhappe,  amongst  so  many  heapes 

I  must  content  me  with,  most  wretched  man, 

That  to  myselfe  I  must  reserve  my  woe 

In  pining  thoughtes  of  mine  accursed  fact: 

Since  I  may  not  shewe  my  smallest  griefe* 

Suche  as  it  is,  and  as  my  brost  endures. 

Which  I  esteeme  the  greatest  miserie 

Of  all  mishehappes  that  fortune  now  can  send. 

Not  that  I  restin  hope  with  plaint  and  teares 

To  purchase  life :  for  to  the  Gods  I  clepe*'^ 

For  true  recorde  of  this  my  faithful  speche. 

Never  this  hart  shall  have  the  thoughtfull  dread 

To  dye  the  death  that  by  your  graces  dome 

By  just  desert  shall  be  pronounced  to  me  ; 

Nor  never  shall  this  tongue  once  spend  the  speche, 

Pardon  to  crave,  or  seeke  by  sute  to  live. 

1  meane  not  this  as  though  I  were  not  touchde 

With  care  of  dreadfull  death,  or  that  I  helde 

Life  in  contempt ;  but  that  I  know,  the  minde 

Stoupes  to  no  dread,  although  the  flesh  be  fraile : 

And  for  my  gilt,  I  yelde  the  same  so  great 

As  in  myselfe  I  find  a  fear  to  sue 

For  graunt  of  life. 

Gorboduc.  In  vaine,  O  wretch  thou  shewe st 
A  wofull  hart?  Ferrex  now  lyes  in  grave, 
Slaine  by  thy  hand. 


*  The  edit,  of  1590  has  this  line  more  perfectly 

"  Since  I  may  not  shewe  heere  my  smallest  griefe.'' 
Mr.  Hawkins  also  adopted  this  improvement.     C. 

29  I  clepe]  I  call.    See  Note  5  to  Grim  the  Collier  of  Croydon,  vol. 
XI. 


152  FERIIEX    AND  PORREX.  [aCT  IV. 


Porrex.  Yet  this,  O  father,  heare, 
And  then  I  end:  Your  majestie  well  knows, 
That  when  my  brother  Ferrex  and  my  selfe 
By  your  owne  hest  were  joyned  in  governaunce 
Of  this  your  grace's  realme  of  Brittaine  land, 
I  never  sought,  nor  travailled  for  the  same ; 
Nor  by  my  selfe,  nor  by  no  frend  I  wrought, 
But  from  your  highnesse  will  alone  it  sprong, 
Of  your  most  gracious  goodnesse  bent  to  me  : 
But  how  my  brother's  hart  even  then  repined, 
With  swollen  disdaine  against  mine  egall  rule, 
Seeing  that  realme,  which  by  discent  should  grow 
Wholly  to  him,  allotted  halfe  to  me; 
Even  in  your  highnesse  court  he  now  remaines, 
And  with  my  brother  then  in  nearest  place 
AVho  can  recorde  what  proofe  therof  was  shewde 
And  how  my  brother's  envious  hart  appearde: 
Yet  I  that  judged  it  my  parte  to  seeke 
His  favour  and  good  will,  and  loth  to  make 
Your  highnesse  know   the  thing  which   should   have 

brought 
Grief  to  your  grace,  and  your  offence  to  him. 
Hoping  my  earnest  sute  should  soone  have  won,ne 
A  loving  hart  within  a  brother's  brest. 
Wrought  in  that  sort,  that,  for  a  pledge  of  love 
And  faithfull  hart,  he  gave  to  me  his  hand. 
This  made  me  thinke^  that  he  had  banisht  quite 
All  rancour  from  his  thought,  and  bare  to  me 
Such  hartie  love,  as  T  did  owe  to  him. 
But  after  once  we  left  your  graces  court 
And  from  your  highnesse  presence  lived  apart, 
This  egall  rule  still,  still  did  grudge  him  so, 
That  now  those  envious  sparkes  which  erst  lay  rakte 
In  living  cinders  of  dissembling  brest, 
Kindled  so  farre  within  his  hart  disdaine. 
That  longer  could  he  not  refraine  from  proofe 
Of  secrete  practise  to  deprive  me  life 
By  poy son's  force ;  and  had  bereft  me  so, 
If  mine  owne  servant  hired  to  this  fact, 


SC.  II.]  FERREX  AND  POIIREX.  153 


And  moved  by  trouth  with  to  work  the  same,* 
In  time  had  not  bewrayed  it  unto  me. 
Whan  thus  I  sawe  the  knot  of  love  unknitte, 
All  honest  league  and  faithful!  promise  broke, 
The  law  of  kinde  and  trouth  thus  rent  in  twaine. 
His  hart  on  mischiefe  set,  and  in  his  brest 
Black  treason  hid;  then,  then  did  I  despeire 
That  ever  time  could  winne  him  frend  to  me, 
^^Then  saw  I  how  he  smiled  with  slaying  knife 
Wrapped  under  cloke,  then  saw  I  depe  deceite 
Lurke  in  his  face  and  death  prepared  for  me : 
Even  nature  moved  me  then  to  holde  my  life 
More  deare  to  me  then  his,  and  bad  this  hand, 
Since  by  his  life  my  death  must  nedes  ensue 
And  by  his  death  my  life  mote  be  preserved. 
To  shed  his  bloud,  and  seeke  my  safetie  so, 
And  wisdome  willed  me  without  protract  ^^ 
In  speedie  wise  to  put  the  same  in  ure'*. 
Thus  have  I  tolde  the  cause  that  moved  me 
To  worke  my  brother's  death,  and  so  I  yeld 
My  life,  my  death,  to  judgement  of  your  grace. 

Gorboduc.  Oh  cruell  wight,  should  any  cause  pre- 
vaile 
To  make  thee  staine  thy  hands  with  brother's  bloud  ? 
But  what  of  thee  we  will  resolve  to  doe, 
Shall  yet  remaine  unknowen.     Thou  in  the  meane 
Shalt  from  our  royal  I  presence  banisht  be, 
Untill  our  princely  pleasure  furder  shall 
To  thee  be  shewed.     Depart  therefore  our  sight, 
Accursed  childe.     What  cruel  destenie, 

*  Hate  seems  omitted  in  this  line  :    it  is  furnished  by  the  copy 
of  1590. 

**  And  moved  by  troth  with  hate  to  woorke  the  same." 
The   passage   is  not    intelligible  without  some    addition  of    the 
kind.    C. 

*'"'  Then  smo  I  how  he  smiled  with  slaying  knife 

Wrapped  under  cloke,]  This  image  is  from  Chaucer's  Knight's  Tale, 
V.  2000.  Tyrwhitt's  Edition  : 

"  The  smiler  with  the  knif  under  the  cloke."     S. 

^'  protract]  i.  e.  delay.     S. 

^^  ure]  See  note  1 2  to  tliis  play. 


J  54  FEllREX  AND  PORREX.  [aOT   IV. 

What  froward  fate  hath  sorted  us  this  chaunce^^. 
That  even  in  those,  where  we  should  comfort  find, 
Where  our  dehght  now  in  our  aged  dayes 
Should  rest  and  be  even  there  our  only  griefe 
And  depest  sorrowes  to  abridge  our  life. 
Most  pyning  cares  and  deadly  thoughts  do  grow? 

Arostus.  Your  grace  should  now  in  these  grave  yeres 
of  yours 
Have  found  ere  this  the  price  of  mortall  joyes ; 
How  short  they  be,  how  fading  here  in  earth, 
How  full  of  change,  how  brittle  our  estate. 
Of  nothing  sure,  save  onely  of  the  death, 
To  whom  both  man  and  all  the  world  doth  owe 
Their  end  at  last :  neither  should  nature's  power 
In  other  sorte  against  your  hart  prevaile. 
Then  as  the  naked  hand  whose  stroke  assayes 
The  armed  brest  where  force  doth  light  in  vaine. 

Gorhuduc.    Many  can  yelde    right  sage  and  grave 
advice 
Of  patient  sprite  to  others  wrapped  in  woe. 
And  can  in  speche  both  rule  and  conquere  kinde, 
Who,  if  by  proofe  they  might  feele  nature's  force, 
Would  shew  themselves  men  as  they  are  indede, 
Which  now  wil  needes  be  gods.   But  what  doth  meane 
The  sory  chere  of  her  that  here  doth  come? 

Marcella.  Oh  where  is  ruth,  or  where  is  pitie  now  ? 
Whether  is  gentle  hart  and  mercy  fled  ? 
Are  they  exiled  out  of  our  stony  brestes, 
Never  to  make  returne?  is  all  the  world 
Drowned  in  bloud,  and  soncke  in  crueltie? 
If  not  in  women  mercy  may  be  found. 
If  not  (alas)  within  the  mother's  brest 
To  her  owne  childe,  to  her  owne  flesh  and  bloud  ; 
If  ruthe  be  banished  thence,  if  pitie  there 
May  have  no  place,  if  there  no  gentle  hart 
Do  live  and  dwell,  where  should  we  seeke  it  then  ? 

Gorboduc.  Madame  (alas),  what  meanes  your  vvofull 
tale? 

^^  sorted  us  this  cJmtnce  ;]  i.  e.  chosen  out  for  us.     S. 


SC.  II.]  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  155 

Marcella.  O  silly  woman  I !  why  to  this  houre 
Have  kinde  and  fortune  thus  deferred  my  breath, 
That  I  should  live  to  see  this  dolefuU  day? 
Will  ever  wight  beleve  that  such  hard  hart 
Could  rest  within  the  cruell  mother's  brest, 
With  her  owne  hand  to  siaye  her  onely  sonne  ? 
But  out  (alas)  these  eyes  behelde  the  same, 
They  saw  the  driery  sight,  and  are  become 
Most  rutlielull  recordes  of  ihe  bloody  fact. 
Porrex  (alas)  is  by  his  mother  slaine, 
And  with  her  hand  a  wotull  thing  to  tell; 
While  slumhring  on  his  careful!  bed  he  restes, 
His  hart  stabde  in  with  knife  is  reft  ot  life. 

Gorboduc.  O  Eubulus,  oh  draw  this  sword  of  ours, 
And  pearce  this  hart  with  speed  !   O  hatefull  light, 
O  loathsome  life,  O  svveete  and  welcome  death, 
Deare  Eubulus,  worke  this  we  thee  besech  ! 

Eubulus,  Pacient  your  grace ^"^j  perhappes  he  liveth 
yet, 
With  wound  receaved  but  not  of  certaine  death. 

Gorboduc.  O  let  us  then  repayre  unto  the  place, 
And  see  if  Porrex  live,  or  tluis  be  slaine. 

Marcella.  Alas,  he  liveth  not,  it  is  to  true. 
That  with  these  eyes,  of  him  a  perelesse  prince, 
Sonne  to  a  king,  and  in  the  flower  of  youth, 
Even  with  a  twinkle  ^^  a  senselesse  stocke  I  saw. 
Arostus.  O  damned  deede  ! 
Marcella.  But  heare  hys  ruthefuU  end. 
The  noble  prince,  pearst  with  the  sodeine  wound, 
Out  of  his  wretched  slumber  hastely  start. 
Whose  strength  now  fayling  straight  he  overthrew, 
When  in  the  fall  his  eyes  even  now  unclosed 
Behelde  the  queene,  and  cryed  to  her  for  helps ; 
We  then,  alas,  the  ladies  which  that  time 

3*  Pacient  your  grace.]     Compose  yourself.     This  verb  is  used  in 
Titus  Andronicus,  A.  1.  S.  2. 

Patient  yourself,  madam,  and  pardon  me. 

See  other  instances  in  Mr.  Steevens's  Note  on  this  passage. 

35  Even  with  a  twinkle-l    i.  e.  the  twdnkling  of  an  eye.     See  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew.     S. 


156  FERREX  AND   PORREX.  [aCT  IV. 


Did  there  attend,  seeing  that  heynous  deede, 
And  hearing'  him  oft  call  the  wretched  name 
Of  mother,  and  to  crye  to  her  for  aide, 
Whose  direfull  hand  gave  him  the  mortall  wound, 
Pitying,  alas,  (for  nought  els  could  we  do) 
His  ruthefuU  end,  ranne  to  the  wofull  bedde, 
Dispoyled  straight  his  brest,  and  all  we  might 
Wiped  in  vaine  with  napkins  next  at  hand, 
The  sodeine  streames  of  bloud  that  flushed  fast 
Out  of  the  gaping  wound  :  O  what  a  looke, 
O  what  a  ruthefuU  stedfast  eye  me  thought 
He  fixt  upon  my  face,  which  to  my  death 
Will  never  part  from  me,  when  with  a  braide  ^^ 
A  deepe  fet  sigh  ^^  he  gave,  and  therewithal! 
Clasping  his  handes,  to  heaven  he  cast  his  sight, 
And  straight  pale  death  pressing  within  his  face 
The  flying  ghost  his  mortall  corpes  forsooke. 

Arostus.  Never  did  age  bring  forth  so  vile  a  fact. 

Marcella.    O    hard    and    cruell    happe,   that   thus 
assigned 
Unto  so  worthy  a  wight  so  wretched  end ; 
But  most  hard  cruell  hart  that  could  consent 
To  lend  the  hatefull  destinies  that  hand, 
By  which,  alas,  so  heynous  crime  was  wrought. 
O  queen  of  adamant,  O  marble  brest, 
If  not  the  favour  of  his  comely  face, 
If  not  his  princely  chere  and  countenance, 
His  valiant  active  armes,  his  manly  brest, 
If  not  his  faire  and  seemely  personage. 
His  noble  limmes  in  such  proportion  cast 

^  when  loith  aln-aide.]  A  braide  was  a  start  or  a  motion  of  the  bead, 
occasioned  by  pain,  uneasiness,  or  affright.  It  is  a  word  used  by 
Chaucer,  in  The  Legend  of  Dido,  ver.  239  : 

"  This  noble  quene  unto  her  rest  ywent, 
"  She  sighed  sore,  and  gon  herself  to  tourment, 
"  She  walketh,  waloweth,  and  made  many  braied 
*'  As  doen  these  lovers,  as  I  have  herd  saied." 
Scogin's  Jests,  p.  10.     "  The  woman,  being  afraid,  gave  a  braid 
"  with  her  head,  and  ran  her  away." 

8'  o  deepe  fet  sigh.]  i.  e.  a  deepf etched  sigh.  See  Note  73  to  Gammer 
Gurtmi's  Needle,  vol.  II. 


SC.  II.]  FERREX  AND    PORREX.  157 


As  would  have  wrapt  a  sillie  woman's  thought ; 

If  this  mought  not  have  moved  thy  bloodie  hart, 

And  that  most  cruell  hand  the  wretched  weapon 

Even  to  let  fall,  and  kiste  him  in  the  face, 

With  teares  for  ruthe  to  reave  such  one  by  death ; 

Should  nature  yet  consent  to  slay  her  sonne  ? 

O  mother,  thou  to  murder  thus  thy  childe  ! 

Even  Jove  with  justice  must  with  lightning  flames 

From   heaven   send   downe  some  strange    revenge  on 

thee. 
Ah,  noble  prince,  how  oft  have  I  behelde 
Thee  mounted  on  thy  fierce  and  trampling  stede, 
Shining  in  armour  bright  before  the  tilt, 
38  And  with  thy  mistresse  sieve  tied  on  thy  helme, 
And  charge  thy  staffe,  to  please  thy  ladies  eye, 
That  bowed  the  head  peece  of  thy  frendly  foe  I 
How  oft  in  armes  on  horse  to  bend  the  mace. 
How  oft  in  armes  on  foot  to  breake  the  sworde, 
Which  never  now  these  eyes  may  see  againe  ! 

Arostus.  Madame,  alas,   in  vaine  these   plaints  are 
shed ; 

Rather  with  me  depart,  and  helpe  to  swage 
The  thoughtfuU  griefes  that  in  the  aged  king 

Must  needes  by  nature  growe  by  death  of  this 

His  onely  sonne,  whome  he  did  holde  so  deare. 

Marcella.  What  wight  is  that  which  sawe  that  I  did 
see. 

And  could  refraine  to  waile  with  plaint  and  teares  ? 

Not  I,  alas,  that  hart  is  not  in  me  : 

But  let  us  go,  for  I  am  greved  anewe, 

To  call  to  rainde  the  wretched  father's  woe. 

Chorus,  When  gredy  lust  in  royall  seate  to  reigne 

Hath  reft  all  care  of  goddes  and  eke  of  men. 

And  cruell  hart,  wrath,  treason,  and  disdaine, 

Within  arabicious  brest  are  lodged ;  then 

^8  And  with  thy  mistresse  sieve  tied  on  thy  helme.]  See  Extract 
from  Hall's  Chronicle,  quoted  ia  Note  33  to  Alexander  and  Campaape, 
TOl.  II. 


158  FERREX   AND  PORREX.  [aCT  V. 


Beholde  how  mischiefe  wiJe  her  selfe  displayes. 
And  with  the  brother's  hand  the  brother  slayes. 

When  bloud  thus  shed  doth  staine  the  heavens  face, 
Crying:  to  Jove  for  veng:eance  of  the  deede, 
The  mightie  God  even  moveth  from  his  j3lace 
With  wrath  to  v/reke,  then  sendes  he  forth  with  spede 
The  dreadfull  furies,  daughters  of  the  night. 
With  serpentes  girt,  carying  the  whip  of  ire, 
With  heare  of  stinging  snakes,  and  shining  bright 
With  flames  and  bloud,  and  with  a  brand  of  fire: 
These  for  revenge  of  wretched  murder  done, 
Do  make  the  mother  kill  her  onely  sonne. 

Blood  asketh  blood,  and  death  must  death  requite  : 
Jove  by  his  just  and  everlasting  dome 
Justly  hath  ever  so  requited  it. 
This  times  before  recorde,  and  times  to  come 
Shall  finde  it  true,  and  so  doth  present  proofe 
Present  before  our  eyes  for  our  behoofe. 

O  happy  wight  that  sufFres  not  the  snare 
Of  murderous  minde  to  tangle  him  in  blood! 
And  happy  he  that  can  in  time  beware 
By  others  harmes,  and  turne  it  to  his  good : 
But  wo  to  him  that,  fearing  not  to  offend, 
Doth  serve  his  lust,  and  will  not  see  the  end. 


The  Order  and  Signification  of  the  Domme  Shew 
before  the  fifth  Act. 

First  the  drommes  and  fiuites  began  to  sound,  during 
which  there  came  forth  upon  the  stage  a  company  of 
hargabusiers  and  of  armed  men  all  in  order  of  battaile. 
These,  after  their  pieces  discharged,  and  that  the 
armed  men  had  three  times  marched  about  the  stage, 
departed,  and  then  the  drommes  and  fluits  did  cease. 
Hereby  was  signified  tumults,  rebellions,  armes,  and 
civil  warres  to  follow,  as  fell  in  the  realme  of  Great 
Brittayne,  which  by  the  space  of  fiftie  yeares  and  more 
continued  in  civill  warre  betwene  the  nobilitie  after  the 


SC.  I.]  FERREX   AND  PORREX.  159 


death  of  king  GorboduCf  and  of  his  issues,  for  want  of 
certayne  Umitacion  in  succession  of  the  crowne,  till  the 
time  of  Dunwatlo  Molmutius*,  who  reduced  the  land 
to  monarchie. 


ACTUS  QUINTUS.     SCENA  PRIMA. 
Clotyn.  Mandud.  Gwen  arc  Fergus.  Eubulus. 

Clotyn.  Did  ever  age  bring  forth  such  tyrant  harts  ? 
The  brother  hath  bereft  the  brother's  life; 
The  mother  she  hath  died  her  cruell  handes 
In  bloud  of  her  owne  sonne;  and  now  at  last 
The  people,  loe,  forgetting  trouth  and  love, 
Contemning  quite  both  law  and  loyall  hart. 
Even    they   have   slaine    their    soveraigne    lord    and 
queene. 

Mandud.  Shall  this  their  traitorous  crime  unpunished 
rest  ? 
Even  yet  they  cease  not,  caryed  on  with  rage 
In  their  rebellious  routes,  to  threaten  still 
A  new  bloud  shed  unto  the  prince's  kinne 
To  slay  them  all,  and  to  uproote  the  race 
Both  of  the  king  and  queene;  so  are  they  moved 
With  Porrex  death,  wherin  they  falsely  charge 
The  giltlesse  king  without  desert  all, 
And  traitorously  have  murdered  him  therfore, 
And  eke  the  queene. 

Gwenard.  Shall  subjectes  dare  with  force 
To  worke  revenge  upon  their  princes  fact? 
Admit  the  worst  that  may;  as  sure  in  this 
The  deede  was  fowle,  the  queene  to  slaye  her  sonne. 
Shall  yet  the  subject  seeke  to  take  the  sworde, 
Arise  agaynst  his  lord,  and  slaye  his  king? 
O  wretched  state  where  those  rebellious  hartes 
Are  not  rent  out  even  from  their  living  breastes. 
And  with  the  body  throwen  unto  the  foules, 

*  According  to  Henslowe's'MS.  William  Eankin,  who  after- 
wards attacked  plays  and  players  so  furiously,  in  his  Mirror  of 
Monsters,  wrote  a  historical  play  called  MnlmuthtsDonwallow.     C. 


160  FERREX  AND   PORREX.  [aCT  I. 

As  carrion  foode,  for  terrour  of  the  rest ! 

Fergus.  There   can   no   punishment  be  thought  to 
great 
For  this  so  grevous  cryme ;  let  spede  therefore 
Be  used  therein,  for  it  behoveth  so. 

Euhulus.  Ye  all  my  lordes,  I  see,  consent  in  one. 
And  I  as  one  consent  with  ye  in  all : 
I  holde  it  more  then  neede,  with  sharpest  law 
To  punish  their  tumultuous  bloudy  rage  ; 
For  nothing  more  may  shake  the  common  state, 
Than  sufferance  of  uproares  without  redresse, 
Wherby  how  some  kingdomes  of  mightie  power, 
After  great  conquestes  made,  and  florishing 
In  fame  and  wealth,  have  ben  to  mine  brought : 
I  pray  to  Jove  that  we  may  rather  wayle 
Such  happe  in  them,  then  witnesse  in  ourselves. 
Eke  fully  with  the  duke  my  minde  agrees 
'*  3*^ That  no  cause  serves,  wherby  the  subject  may 
"  Call  to  account  the  dooinges  of  his  prince ; 
"  Much  lesse  in  blood  byswoorde  to  woorke  revenge; 
*'  No  more  then  may  the  hand  cut  of  the  head. 
*'  In  acte  nor  speech,  no  not  in  secret  thought 
*'  The  subject  may  rebell  against  his  lord, 
*'  Or  judge  of  him  that  sits  in  Csesar's  seate, 
"  With  grudging  minde  to  damne  those  he  mislikes." 
Though  kinges  forget  to  governe  as  they  ought, 
Yet  subjectes  must  obey  as  they  are  bounde. 
But  now,  my  lordes,  before  ye  farder  wade 
Or  spend  your  speach,  what  sharpe  revenge  shall  fall 
By  justice  plague  on  these  rebellious  wightes  ? 
Me  thinkes  ye  rather  should  first  search  the  way 
By  which  in  time  the  rage  of  this  uproare 
Mought  be  repressed,  and  these  great  tumults  ceased. 
•Even  yet  the  life  of  Brittayne  land  doth  hang, 
In  traitours  balaunce  of  unegall  weight, 
Thinke  not,  my  lordes,  the  death  of  Gorboduc, 
Nor  yet  Videnae's  blond  will  cease  their  rage : 

33  That  no  cause  serves,  (S>:c.]    This  and  the  lines  following  marked 
with  commas  are  only  to  be  found  in  the  spurious  edition  of  this  play. 
And  in  the  reprint  of  that  spurious  edition  in  1590.     C. 


SC.  I.]  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  161 


Even  our  owne  lyves,  our  wives,  and  children  deare, 

Our  countrey,  dearest  of  all,  in  daunger  standes, 

Now  to  be  spoiled,  now,  now  made  desolate, 

And  by  ourselves  a  conquest  to  ensue : 

For  geve  once  swey  unto  the  people's  lustes, 

To  rush  forth  on,  and  stay  them  not  in  time, 

And  as  the  streame  that  rowleth  downe  the  hyll, 

So  will  they  headlong  ronne  with  raging  thoughtes 

From  bloud  to  bloud,  from  mischiefe  unto  moe, 

To  ruine  of  the  realme,  themselves  and  all ; 

So  giddy  are  the  common  people's  mindes, 

So  glad  of  chaunge,  more  wavering  than  the  sea. 

Ye  see  (my  lordes)  what  strength  these  rebelles  have, 

What  hugie  nombre  is  assembled  still, 

For  though  the  traiterous  fact  for  which  they  rose 

Be  wrought  and  done,  yet  lodge  they  still  in  field ; 

So  that  how  farre  their  furies  yet  will  stretch 

Great  cause  we  have  to  dreade :  that  we  may  seeke 

By  present  battaile  to  represse  their  power, 

Speede  must  we  use  to  levie  force  therfore, 

For  either  they  forthwith  will  mischiefe  work, 

Or  their  rebellious  roares  forthwith  will*  cease: 

These  violent  thinges  may  have  no  lasting  long. 

Let  us  therfore  use  this  for  present  heipe : 

Perswade  by  gentle  speach,  and  offre  grace 

With  gift  of  pardon  save  unto  the  chiefe  ; 

And  that  upon  condicion  that  forthwith 

They  yelde  the  captaines  of  ti^eir  enterprise. 

To  beare  such  guerdon  *^  of  their  traiterous  fact 

As  may  be  both  due  vengeance  to  themselves. 

And  holsome  terrour  to  posterilie- 

This  shall,  I  thinke,  scatter*  the  greatest  parte, 

That  now  are  holden  with  desire  of  home. 

Weried  in  field  with  cold  of  winter's  nightes, 

And  some  (no  doubt)  striken  with  dread  of  law. 

•Theedit.  of  1590  reads, 

"  Or  tlieir  rebellious  roares  forthwith  must  cease," 
which  is  perhaps  an  improvement  to  the  sense  of  the  passage.     C 
''"  gerudon]  reward.  See  Note  46  to  The  Spanish  Tragedy,  vol.  III. 
*"  Flatter,"  edit.  1590. 

VOL.  I.  M 


162  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  f[ACT  IV. 

Whan  this  is  once  proclamed,  it  shall  make 

The  captaines  to  mistrust  the  multitude, 

Whose  safety  biddes  them  to  betray  their  heads, 

And  so  much  more  bycause  the  rascall  routes, 

In  thinges  of  great  and  perillous  attemptes, 

Are  never  trustie  to  the  noble  race. 

And  while  we  treate  and  stand  on  termes  of  grace, 

We  shall  both  stay  their  furies  rage  the  while, 

And  eke  gaine  time,  whose  onely  helpe  sufficeth 

Withouten  warre  to  vanquish  rebelles  power. 

In  the  meane  while,  make  you  in  redynes  - 

Such  band  of  horsemen  as  ye  may  prepare. 

Horsemen  (you  know)  are  not  the  commons  strength, 

But  are  the  force  and  store  of  noble  men. 

Wherby  the  unchosen  and  unarmed  sort  ^' 

Of  skillesse  rebelles,  whome  none  other  power, 

But  nombre  makes  to  be  of  dreadfull  force. 

With  sodeyne  brunt  may  quickely  be  opprest. 

And  if  this  gentle  meane  of  proffered  grace 

With  stubborne  heartes  cannot  so  farre  avayle 

As  to  asswage  their  desperate  courages. 

Then  do  I  wish  such  slaughter  to  be  made. 

As  present  age  and  eke  posteritie 

May  be  adrad'^^  with  horrour  of  revenge, 

That  justly  then  shall  on  these  rebelles  fall ; 

This  is,  my  lords,  the  summc  of  mine  advise. 

Clotyn.  Neither  this  case  admittes  debate  at  large; 
And  though  it  did,  this  speach  that  hath  ben  sayd 
Hath  well  abridged  the  tale  I  would  have  tolde. 
Fully  with  Eubulus  do  I  consent 
In  all  that  he  hath  sayde ;  and  if  the  same 
To  you  my  lordes  may  seeme  for  best  advise, 
I  wish  that  it  should  streight  be  put  in  ure. 

^'  unchosen  and  unarmed  sort]  multitude.  See  Note  4  to  Gammer 
Gurton's  Needle,  vol.  II. 

^'  may  be  adrad.]  A^rad  is  the  participle  passive  of  adrede: 
afraid.    S. 

So  in  Erasmus's  Praise  of  Folie,  1549,  Sign.  R  4  :  "  —  lyke  as 
"  great  princes  have  wysemen  in  jelousie  and  suspicion,  as  Julius 
*'  Cassar  had  Brutus  and  also  Cassius,  whereas  he  nothinge  helde 
"  hymselfe  adradde  of  drunken  Mark  Anthony." 


SC.  I.]  FERREX  AND  PORREX.  163 


Mandud.  My  lordes,  then  let  us  presently  depart 
And  follow  this  that  liketh*'  us  so  well. 

Fergus.  If  ever  time  to  gaine  a  kingdoms  here 
Were  ofFred  man,  now  it  is  offred  me! 
The  realme  is  reft  both  of  their  king  and  queene, 
The  offspring  of  the  prince  is  slaine  and  dead, 
No  issue  now  remaines,  the  heire  unknowen, 
The  people  are  in  armes  and  mutynies, 
The  nobles  they  are  busied  how  to  cease 
These  great  rebellious  tumultes  and  uproares : 
And  Brittayne  land  now  desert  left  alone 
Amyd  these  broyles  uncertayn  where  to  rest, 
Offers  herselfe  unto  that  noble  hart 
That  will  or  dare  pursue  to  beare  her  crowne. 
Shall  I  that  am  the  duke  of  Albanye 
Discended  from  that  line  of  noble  bloud, 
Which  hath  so  long  florished  in  worthy  fame 
Of  valiaunt  hartes,  such  as  in  noble  brestes 
Of  right  should  rest  above  the  baser  sort, 
Refuse  to  adventure  life  to  winne  a  crowne  ? 
Whom  shall  I  finde  enemies  that  will  withstand 
My  fact  herein,  if  I  attempt  by  armes 
To  seeke  the  same  now  in  these  times  of  broyle? 
These  dukes  power  can  hardly  well  appease 
The  people  that  already  are  in  armes: 
But  if  perhappes  my  force  be  once  in  field, 
Is  not  my  strength  in  power  above  the  best 
Of  all  these  lordes  now  left  in  Brittayne  land. 
And  though  they  should  match  me  with  power  of  men, 
Yet  doubtfuU  is  the  chaunce  of  battailes  joyned. 
If  victors  of  the  field  we  may  depart, 
Ours  is  the  scepter  then  of  great  Brittayne ! 
If  slayne  amid  the  playne  this  body  lye. 
Mine  enemies  yet  shall  not  deny  me  this, 
But  that  I  dyed  geving  the  noble  charge 
To  hazarde  life  for  conquest  of  a  crowne. 
Forthwith  therefore  will  I  in  post  depart 
To  Albanye,  and  raise  in  armour  there 
All  power  I  can  :  and  here  my  secret  frendes 

«  liketh}  pleaseth.  ■  See  Note  8  to  Cornelia,  vol.  II. 


164  FERllEX  AND  PORREX.  [aCT  V. 


By  secret  practise  shall  soUicite  still 

To  seeke  to  wynne  to  me  the  people's  hartes, 

ACTUS  QUINTUS      SCENA  SECUNDA. 
EuBULus.  Clotyn.  Mandud.  Gwenard.  Arostus, 

NUNTIUS. 

Euhulus.  O  Jove,  how  are  these  people's  harts  abusde! 
What  blind  fury  thus  headlong  caries  them? 
That  though  so  many  bookes,  so  many  rolles 
Of  auncient  time  recorde  what  grevous  plagues 
Light  on  these  rebelles  aye,  and  though  so  oft 
Their  eares  have  heard  their  aged  fathers  tell 
What  juste  reward  these  traitours  still  receyve ; 
Yea  though  themselves  have  senedepe  death  andbloud 
By  strangling  cord  and  slaughter  of  the  sword 
To  such  assigned,  yet  can  they  not  beware; 
Yet  can  not  stay  their  lewde  rebellious  handes,  * 
But  suffring,  loe,  fowle  treason  to  distaine 
Their  wretched  myndes,  forget  their  loyall  hart, 
Reject  all  truth,  and  rise  against  their  prince, 
A  ruthefull  case,  that  those  whom  duties  bond, 
Whom  grafted  law,  by  nature,  truth,  and  faith 
Bound  to  preserve  their  country  and  their  king. 
Borne  to  defend  their  common  wealth  and  prince, 
Even  they  should  geve  consent  thus  to  subvert 
Thee  Brittaine  land,  and  from  thy  wombe  should  bring 
(O  native  soile)  those,  that  will  needs  destroy 
And  ruyne  thee  and  eke  themselves  in  fine. 
For  lo,  when  once  the  duke  had  ofFred  grace 
Of  pardon  sweete  (the  multitude  misledde 
By  traiterous  fraude  of  their  ungracious  heades) 
One  sort  that  saw  the  dangerous  successe 
Of  stubborne  standing  in  rebellious  warre. 
And  knew  the  difference  of  princes  power, 
From  headlesse  nombre  of  tumultuous  routes, 
Whom  common  countreies  care  and  private  feare 
Taught  to  repent  the  errour  of  their  rage, 
Layde  hands  upon  the  captaines  of  their  band, 
*  "  Yet  caii  they  not  stay  their  rebellious  haads."  edit.  1590. 


SC.  II.]  FERREX   AND  PORREX.  l65 


And  brought  them  bound  unto  the  mightie  dukes. 

And  other  sort,  not  trusting  yet  so  well 

The  truth  of  pardon,  or  mistrusting  more 

Their  owne  offence  than  that  they  could  conceive 

Sure  hope  of  pardon  for  so  foule  misdede, 

Or  for  that  they  their  captaines  could  not  yeld, 

Who  fearing  to  be  yelded  fled  before, 

Stale  home  by  silence  of  the  secret  night. 

The  third  unhe\^py  and  enraged  sort 

Of  desperate  hartes,  who  stained  in  princes  bloud, 

From  trayierous  furour  could  not  be  withdrawen 

By  love,  by  law,  by  grace,  ne  yet  by  feare, 

By  proffered  life,  ne  yet  by  threatned  death. 

With  mindes  hopelesse  of  life,  dreadlesse  of  deaths 

Carelesse  of  countrey,  and  avvelesse  of  God. 

Stoode  bent  to  fight,  as  furies  did  them  move 

With  violent  death  to  close  their  traiterous  life. 

These  ail  by  power  of  horsemen  were  opprest. 

And  with  revenging  sworde  slayne  in  the  field, 

Or  with  the  strangling  cord  hangd  on  the  tree, 

Where  yet  the  caryen  carcases  do  preach* 

The  fruites  that  rebelles  reape  of  their  uproares, 

And  of  the  murder  of  their  sacred  prince. 

But  loe,  where  do  approche  the  noble  dukes, 

By  whom  these  tumults  have  ben  thus  appeasde. 

Clotyn.  I  thinke  the  world  will  now  at  length  beware, 
And  feare  to  put  on  arraes  agaynst  their  prince. 

Mandud.  If  not,  those  trayterous  hartes  that  dare 
rebell. 
Let  them  beholde  the  wide  and  hugie  fieldes 
With  bloud  and  bodies  spread  of  rebelles  slayne ; 
The  lofty  f  trees  clothed  with  corpses  dead 
That  strangled  with  the  cord  do  hang  thereon. 

Arostus.  A  just  rewarde,  such  as  all  times  before 
Have  ever  lotted  to  those  wretched  folkes. 


*  So  Marlow,  in  Edward  II.  vol.  II.  p.  318. 

"  Brother,  revenge  it,  and  let  these  their  heads 

"  Preach  upon  poles  for  trespass  of  their  tongues."     C. 

t  "^Zttstt/ trees,"  edit.  1590. 


166  FEllREX   AND  PORllEX.  [aCT  V. 


Gwenard.  But  what  meanes  he  that  commeth  here 

so  fast  ? 
Nuntius.  My  lordes,  as  dutie  and  my  trouth  doth 
move, 
And  of  my  countrey  worke  a  care  in  me, 
That  if  the  spending  of  my  breath  availed 
To  do  the  service  that  my  hart  desires, 
I  would  not  shunne  to  imbrace  a  present  death;. 
So  have  I  now  in  that  wherein  I  thought 
My  travayle  mought  performe  some  good  effect 
Ventred  my  life  to  bring  these  tydings  here. 
Fergus,  the  mightie  duke  of  Albanye, 
Is  nowe  in  armes,  and  lodgeth  in  the  fielde: 
With  twentie  thousand  men  hether  he  bendes 
His  spedy  march,  and  mindes  to  invade  the  crowne. 
Dayly  he  gathereth  strength,  and  spreads  abrode, 
That  to  this  realme  no  certaine  heire  remaines, 
That  Brittayne  land  is  left  without  a  guide, 
That  he  the  scepter  seekes,  for  nothing  els 
But  to  preserve  the  people  and  the  land 
•  Which  now  remaine  as  shippe  without  a  sterne**: 
Loe  this  is  that  which  I  have  here  to  say. 

Clotyn.  Is  this  his  fayth  ?  and  shall  he  falsely  thus 
Abuse  the  vauntage  of  unhappie  times? 
O  wretched  land,  if  his  outragious  pride, 
His  cruell  and  untempred  wiifulnesse, 
His  deepe  dissembling  shewes  of  false  pretence, 
Should  once  attaine  the  crowne  of  Brittaine  land. 
Let  us,  my  lordes,  with  timely  force  resist 
The  new  attempt  of  this  our  common  foe. 
As  we  would  quench  the  flames  of  common  fire. 

Mandud,  Though  we  remaine  without  a  certain  prince 
To  weld  the  realm,  or  guide  the  wandring  rule, 
Yet  now  the  common  mother  of  us  all, 
Our  native  land,  our  countrey  that  conteines 
Our  wives,  children,  kindred,  ourselves,  and  all 
That  ever  is  or  may  be  deare  to  man. 
Cries  unto  us  to  helpe  ourselves  and  her : 

^*  without  a  Sterne]  A  steme  was  the  antient  term  for  the  ruddero 
See  King  Henry  V,    S. 


SC.  II.]  FERREX   AND  PORREX.  167 


Let  US  adyaunce  our  powers  to  represse 
This  growing  foe  of  all  our  liberties. 

Gwenard.  Yea  let  us  so,  my  lordes,  with  hasty  speede. 
And  ye  (O  goddes)  send  us  the  welcome  death, 
To  shed  our  bloud  in  field,  and  leave  us  not 
In  lothesome  life  to  lenger  out  our  dayes,* 
To  see  the  hugie  heapes  of  these  unhappes, 
That  now  roll  downe  upon  the  wretched  land, 
Where  emptie  place  of  princely  governaunce. 
No  certaine  stay  now  left  of  doubtlesse  heire, 
Thus  leave  this  guidelesse  realme  an  open  pray 
To  endlesse  stormes  and  waste  of  civill  warre. 

Arostus.  That  ye  (my  lordes)  do  so  agree  in  one 
To  save  your  countrey  from  the  violent  reigne 
And  wrongfully  usurped  tyrannic 
Of  him  that  threatens  conquest  of  you  all. 
To  save  your  realme,  and  in  this  realme  yourselves 
From  forreine  thraldorae  of  so  proud  a  prince. 
Much  do  I  prayse ;  and  I  besech  the  goddes 
With  happy  honour  to  requite  it  you. 
But  (O  my  lords)  sith  now  the  heavens  wrath 
Hath  reft  this  lande  the  issue  of  their  prince ; 
Sith  of  the  body  of  our  late  soveraigne  lorde 
Remaines  no  moe ;  since  the  yong  kinges  be  slaine, 
And  of  the  title  of  discended  crowne, 
Uncertainly  the  diverse  mindes  do  thinke 
Even  of  the  learned  sort,  and  more  uncertainly 
Will  parciall  fancie  and  affection  deeme ; 
But  most  uncertainly  will  climbing  pride 
And  hope  of  reigne  withdraw  to  sundrie  partes 
The  doubtfuU  right  and  hopefull  lust  to  reigne; 
When  once  this  noble  service  is  atchieved, 
For  Brittaine  land  the  mother  of  ye  all, 
When  once  ye  have  with  armed  force  represt, 
The  proude  attemptes  of  this  Albanian  prince. 
That  threatens  thraldome  to  your  native  land. 
When  ye  shall  vanquishers  returne  from  field 
And  find  the  princely  state  an  open  pray, 
To  greedie  lust  and  to  usurping  power; 

*  ♦'  To  lenger  out  our  lives."     Edit.  1690. 


168  TERREX  AND  PORREX.        [aCT 


Then,  then  (my  lordes)  i»  ever  kindly  care 

Of  auncient  honour  of  your  auncesters, 

Of  present  wealth  and  noblesse  of  your  stockes, 

Yea  of  the  lives  and  safetie  yet  to  come 

Of  your  deare  wives,  your  children,  and  yourselves. 

Might  move  your  noble  hartes  with  2:eijtle  ruth, 

Then,  then  have  pitie  on  tlie  torne  estate. 

Then  helpe  to  salve  the  wel  neare  hopel;  sse  sore! 

Which  ye  shall  do,  if  ye  yourselves  withholds 

The  slaying  knife  fi'om  yourowne  mother's  throate, 

Her  shall  you  save,  and  you  and  yours  in  her, 

If  ye  shall  all  with  one  assent  forbeare 

Once  to  lay  hand,  or  lake  unto  yourselves, 

The  crowne  by  colour  of  pretended  right; 

Or  by  what  other  meanes  so  ever  it  be, 

Till  first  by  common  counsell  of  you  all 

In  parliament,  the  regall  diademe 

Be  set  in  certaine  place  of  pfovernaunce, 

In  which  your  parliament  and  in  yourchoise 

Preferre  the  right  (my  lordes)  without  ^^  respect 

Of  strength  or  frendes,  or  whatsoever  cause 

That  may  set  forward  any  others  part : 

For  right  will  last,  and  wrong  can  not  endure. 

Right  meane  I  his  or  hers,  upon  whose  name 

The  people  rest  by  meane  of  native  line. 

Or  by  the  veitue  of  some  former  lawe, 

Already  made  their  title  to  advaunce: 

Such  one  (my  lordes)  let  be  your  chosen  king. 

Such  one  so  borne  within  your  native  land. 

Such  one  preferre,  and  in  no  wise  admitte. 

The  heavie  yoke  of  forreine  governance. 

Let  forreine  titles  yelde  to  publike  wealth. 

And  with  that  hart  wherewith  ye  nou'  prepare 

Thus  to  withstand  the  proude  invading  foe, 

With  that  siime  hart  (my  lordes)  keepe  out  also 

Unnaturall  thraldome  of  strangers  reis^ne, 

Ne  suffer  you  against  the  rules  of  kinde, 

Your  mother  land  to  serve  a  forreine  prince. 

Euhulus.  Loe  here  the  end  of  Brutus  royall  line, 
*=  withoute\  with,  edit.  1590. 


SC.  II.]  FERREX  AND  PORREX,  169 


And  loe  the  entry  to  the  wofull  wracke 

And  utter  ruine  of  this  noble  realme. 

The  royall  king,  and  eke  his  sonnes  are  slaine; 

No  ruler  restes  within  the  regali  seate: 

The  heire  to  whom  the  scepter  lon^es,  unknowen ; 

That  to  eche  force  of  forreine  princes  power, 

Whom  vauntage  of  your  wretched  state  may  move,* 

By  sodeine  armes  to  gaine  so  riche  a  realme, 

And  to  the  proud  and  gredie  minde  at  home 

Whom  blinded  lust  to  reigne  leades  ro  aspire, 

Loe  Brittaine  realme  is  left  an  open  pray, 

A  present  spoyle  by  conquest  to  ensue. 

Who  seeth  not  now  how  many  rising  mindes 

Do  feede  their  thoughts,  with  hope  to  reach  a  realme? 

And  who  will  not  by  force  attempt  to  winne 

So  great  againe  that  hope  perswades  to  have? 

A  simple  colour  shall  for  title  serve: 

Who  win  lies  the  royall  crowne  will  want  no  right, 

Nor  such  as  shall  display  by  long  discent 

Alineall  race  to  prove  him  lawfuU  king.f 

In  the  meane  while  these  civil  armes  shall  rage. 

And  thus  a  thousand  mischiefes  shall  unfolde 

And  farre  and  neare  spread  thee  (O  Brittaine  land). 

All  right  and  lawe  shall  cease,  and  he  that  had 

Nothing  to-dav,  to-morrowe  shall  enjoye 

Great  heapes  of  golde,  and  he  that  flowed  in  wealth, 

Loe  he  shall  be  bereft  of  life  and  all ; 

And  happiest  he  that  then  possesseth  least. 

The  wives  shall  suffer  rape,  the  maides  defloured. 

And  children  fatherlesse  shall  weepe  and  waile : 

With  fire  and  sworde  thy  native  folke  shall  perishe, 

One  kinsman  shall  bereave  an  others  life. 

The  father  shall  unwitting  slay  the  sonne, 

The  Sonne  shall  slay  the  sire  and  know  it  not. 

Women  and  maides  the  cruel  souldiers  sword 

Shall  perse  to  death,  and  sillie  children  loe 

That  playing  '*^  in  the  streetes  and  fieldes  are  found, 

*  "  May  move,"  omitted  in  Edit,  of  1590. 
t  "  To  prove  himself  a  king."     Edit.  1590. 
••6  playing]   play,  edit.  1590. 


170  FERREX  AND  TORREX.  [aCT  \ 

By  violent  hand  shall  close  their  latter  day. 
Whom  shall  the  fierce  and  bloudy  souldier 
Reserve  to  life  ?  whom  shall  he  spare  from  death  ? 
Even  thou  (O  wretched  mother)  halfe  alive, 
Thou  shalt  beholde  thy  deare  and  onely  childe 
Slaine  with  the  sworde  while  he  yet  suckes  thy  brest. 
Loe,  giltlesse  bloud  shall  thus  eche  where  be  shed : 
Thus  shall  the  wasted  soyle  yelde  forth  no  fruite 
But  dearth  and  famine  shall  possesse  the  land. 
The  townes  shall  be  consumed,  and  burnt  with  fire; 
The  peopled  cities  shall  waxe  desolate, 
And  thou  O  Brittaine,  whilome  in  renowne, 
Whilome  in  wealth  and  fame,  shalt  thus  be  tome : 
Dismembred  thus,  and  thus  be  rent  in  twaine, 
Thus  wasted  and  defaced,  spoyled  and  destroyed. 
These  be  the  fruites  your  civill  warres  will  bring. 
Hereto  it  commes  when  kinges  will  not  consent 
To  grave  advise,  but  follow  wilfuU  will : 
This  is  the  end,  when  in  fonde  prince's  hartes 
Flattery  prevailes,  and  sage  rede  hath  no  place; 
These  are  the  plages  when  murder  is  the  meane 
To  make  new  heircs  unto  the  royall  crowne : 
Thus  wreke  the  Gods  when  that  the  mother's  wrath 
Nought  but  the  bloud  of  her  own  childe  may  swage: 
These  mischiefes  spring,  when  rebells  will  arise, 
To  worke  revenge  and  judge  their  prince's  fact : 
This,  this  ensues  when  noble  men  do  faile 
In  loyall  trouth,  and  subjectes  will  be  kinges: 
And  this  doth  growe,  when  loe  unto  the  prince, 
Whome  death  or  sodeine  happe  of  life  bereaves, 
No  certaine  heire  remaines  ;  such  certein  heire, 
As  not  all  onely  is  the  rightfull  heire. 
But  to  the  realme  is  so  made  knowen  *  to  be, 
And  trouth  therby  vested  in  subjectes  hartes, 
To  owe  fayth  there,  where  right  is  knowen  to  rest. 
Alas,  in  parliament  what  hope  can  be. 
When  is  of  parliament  no  hope  at  all. 
Which  though  it  be  assembled  by  consent, 
Yet  is  not  likely  with  consent  to  end  : 

*  "  Unknowne."     Edit.  1590. 


SC.   II.]  FERREX  AND   PORREX.  171 


While  eche  one  for  himselfe,  or  for  his  frend, 

Against  his  foe,  shall  travaile  what  he  may  : 

While  now  the  state  left  open  to  the  man, 

That  shall  with  greatest  force  invade  the  same. 

Shall  fill  ambicious  mindes  with  gaping  hope 

When  will  they  once  with  yelding  hartes  agree  ? 

Or  in  the  while  how  shall  the  realme  be  used  ? 

No,  no  ;  ihen  parliament  shonld  have  bene  holden, 

And  certaine  heires  appointed  to  the  crowne 

To  staye  the  title  on  established  right. 

And  in  the  people  plant  obe;iience, 

While  yet  the  prince  did  live,  whose  name  and  power 

By  lawfull  sommons  and  authoritie, 

Might  make  a  parliament  to  be  of  force, 

And  might  have  set  the  state  *  in  quiet  stay. 

But  now,  O  happie  man,  whom  spedie  death 

Deprives  of  life,  ne  is  enforced  to  see 

These  hugie  mischiefes  and  these  miseries. 

These  civill  warres,  these  murders,  and  these  wronges. 

Of  justice  yet  must  God  f  in  fine  restore, 

1  his  noble  crowne  unto  the  lawfull  heire  : 

For  right  will  alwayes  live,  and  rise  at  length, 

But  wrong  can  never  take  deepe  roote  to  last. 

*  "  Realm,"  edit.  1590.  t  "  Jove,"  edit.  1590. 


172 


EDITIONS. 

(1.)  "The  Tragedie  of  Gorboduc ;  whereof  three 
"  Actes  were  written  by  Thomas  Nortone,  and  the  two 
"  laste  by  Thomas  Sackvyle.  Settforthe  as  the  same 
'*  was  shewed  before  the  Queenes  most  excellent 
**  Majestie,  in  her  hignes  court  of  Whitehall,  the  18 
"  Jan.  1561.  By  the  Gentlemen  of  Thynner  Temple, 
"  in  London,  Sept.  22."  4to.  Printed  for  William 
Griffith.  (See  Ames's  Typographical  Antiquities^ 
p.  316.) 

This  Edition  I  have  not  seen.  It  appears  to  be  the 
first  spurious  one  complained  of  by  the  Authors. 

(2.)  "  The  Tragedie  of  Ferrex  and  Porrex.  Set- 
"  forth  without  addition  or  alteration ;  but  altogether 
*'  as  the  same  was  shewed  on  stage  before  the  Queenes 
"  Majestie  about  nine  yeares past,  viz.  the  xviii  day  of 
"  Januarie,  1561,  by  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Inner 
"  Temple.  Seen  and  allowed,  &c.  Imprinted  at 
'<  London  by  John  Daye,  dwelling  over  Aldersgate/' 
B.  L.  8vo. 

In  the  Bodleian  Library,  and  in  the  possession  of 
Thomas  Pearson,  Esq. 

(3.)  "  The  Tragedie  of  Gorboduc  ;  whereof  three 
"  Actes  were  written  by  Thomas  Norton,  and  the  two 
"  last  by  Thomas  Sackvyle.  Set  forth  as  the  same 
"  was  shewed  before  the  Queenes  most  excellent 
"  Majesty,  in  her  hignes  Court  of  Whitehall,  by  the 
"  Gentlemen  of  the  Inner  Temple.  At  London, 
"  printed  by  Edward  Allde  for  John  Perrin,  and  are  to 
"  be  sold  in  Paule's  Churchyard,  at  the  signe  of  the 
"  Angell,  1590."  B.  L.  4to. 

In  the  Collection  of  Thomas  Pearson  Esq.  and  also 


173 

in  that  of  Mr.  Garrick.     In  the  last-mentioned  copy 
is  a  discourse  entitled,  The  Serpent  of  Devision  *. 

*  At  the  end  of  the  address  "  To  the  Gentlemen  Readers," 
prefixed  to  The  Seiyent  of  Division,  the  printer  says — "  Heere 
"  shah  thou  see  also,  if  with  content  thou  peruse  it,  the  woful 
"  Tragedie  of  Gorboduc,  and  Ferrex  and  Porrex  his  two  sonnes,  as 
*'  it  was  presented  before  the  Queenes  Majestie,  by  the  Gentlemen 
"  of  the  Inner  Temple."  The  Sei-pent  of  Division  appears  to  be  a 
translation.    C. 


DAMON  AND  PITHIAS 


Richard  Edwards,  a  Somersetshire  man,  was  born 
in  the  year  1523,  admitted  a  scholar  of  Corpus  Christi 
College  on  the  11th  of  May,  1540,  and  probationer 
fellow  on  the  11th  of  August,  1544.  At  the  founda- 
tion of  Christ  Church,  by  King  Henry  the  Eighth,  in 
the  year  1547,  he  was  chosen  a  student  of  the  upper- 
table,  and  in  the  same  year  took  the  degree  of  Master 
of  Arts.  From  the  University,  he  removed  to  Lincoln's- 
Inn  ;  and  in  the  beginning  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  reign 
was  appointed  one  of  the  gentlemen  of  her  chapel,  and 
master  of  the  children  there*.  He  died,  according  to 
Sir  John  Hawkins »,  on  the  31st  of  October,  1566, 

He  was  the  author  of 

(1.)  Damon  and  Pithias  :  a  Comedy.  Acted  before 
the  Queen  by  the  children  of  her  chapel,  and  published 
in  4to.  1571.  4to.  1582  f. 

(2.)  Palsemon  and  Arcyte :  A  Comedy.  In  two 
parts.  Acted  in  Christ-Church-Hall,  1566.  This 
piece  was  represented  on  the  2d  and  3d  of  September. 
The  first  evening,  it  was  scarcely  begun  to  be  per- 
formed before  it  became  a  Tragedy,  for  by  the  weight 
of  the  multitudes  the  scaffold  fell  down.  Five  men 
were  greatly  hurt  and  wounded,  and  three  killed  by 

•  It  has  been  conjectured  that  he  came  early  to  Court,  for  there 
exist  in  IMS.  some  Poems  with  his  name,  addressed  to  the  beauties 
of  the  Court  of  Queen  JMary.  See  the  new  edition  of  Niigce  An- 
tique, by  jMr.  Park,  vol.  2.  p.  392.  The  third  Poem  in  the  Paradise 
if  Dayntie  Devises,  is  by  Edwards  upon  this  subject,  and  the  first 
stanza  shews  that  he  was  a  young  man  when  he  sought  to  "  become 
"  one  of  the  courtly  trayne :"  it  begins, 

"  In  youthfull  yeeres  when  fyrst  my  young  desyres  began 
*'  To  pricke  me  foorth  to  serve  in  Court,  a  sclender  tall  young 
man,''  (Sec.     C. 

'  History  of  Music,  vol.  2.  p.  541. 

+  By  the  words  "  newly  imprinted"  on  the  title-page  of  the 
edition  of  1571,  it  is  perhaps  to  be  understood,  that  it  had  been 
published  before  ;  or  it  may  only  mean  that  the  Play  was  then 
"  newly  imprinted"  from  the  MS.  Some  biographers  have  noticed 
a  supposed  edition  of  Damon  and  Pithias,  in  1570,  but  this  is  a  mis- 
take for  the  year  following.     C. 

VOL.   I.  N 


178 

the  fall  of  a  wall  ^.     On  the  second  evening,  the  Queen 
is  said  to  have  been  much  entertained.     After  the  play 
■was  ended,  she  called  the  author  to  her,  commended 
his  work,  promised  what    she  would  do  for  him,  and 
talked  to  him  in  the  most  familiar  way.     One  of  the 
performers,  supposed  to  be  young  Carew,  pleased  her 
so  much,  that  she  made  him  a  present  of  eight  guineas. 
See  Wood's  Athence  Oxoniensis,  vol.  1.  p.   151.;  and 
Peshall's  History  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  227,  228. 
Chetwood  says,  both  parts  of  this  play  were  printed, 
with  the  Author's  Songs  and   Poems,  in  1585.     Wood 
assures   us,   that   there    were    several    other   dramatic 
pieces  by  him,  which  he  did  not  live  to  finish  ;  and  that 
it  was  the  opinion  of  many,  he   would  have   run  mad 
had  he  continued  to  exercise  his  talents  as  a  writer  for 
the  stage. 

He  was  also  the  Author  of 

Some  Poems  printed  in  The  Paradise  of  Dainty 
Devises,  4to.  1575,  and  a  Poem  called  Edward^ s  Soul- 
knil ;  or  The  Soules  knell:  written  in  his  last  illness. 

He  appears  to  have  obtained  a  considerable  reputa- 
tion as  a  dramatic  writer,  which  will  appear  from  the 
following  testimony  in  Puttenham's  Art  of  Poetry  :  "  I 
'*  think  that  for  Tragedy  the  Lord  Buckhurst  and 
''  Maister  Edward  Ferrys,  for  such  doings  as  I  have 
''  seen  of  theirs,  do  deserve  the  highest  price;  the  Earl 
*'  of  Oxford,  and  Mr.  Edwards  of  her  Majesty's 
*'  Chapel,  for  Comedy  and  Interlude."  An  Epitaph  on 
him  is  said  to  be  printed  among  the  Poems  of  George 
Turberville*. 


^  Ppshall's  History  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  227. 

*  This  production,  which   Mr.  Reed  had  not  seen,  does  exist ; 
and  is  to  be  be  found  in  Turberville's  Epitaphes,  Epigrams,  Songes, 
and  Simets,  printed  in  1570.     It  opens  as  follows  : 
"  Epitaph  on  Maister  Edwards,  sometime   Maister  of  the   Chil- 

"  dren  of   the    Chapell,    and    Gentleman    of   Lyncolues    Inne 

"  Court. 
"  Ye  learned  Muses  nine,  and  Sacred  Sisters  all, 
"  Now  lay  your  cheerful!  cithrons  downe,  and  to  lamenting  fall. 


179 

**  Rent  oflf  those  garlandes  greene,  doe  laurel  leaves  away, 

"  Remove  the  myrtill  from  your  browes,  and  stint  on  strings  *o 

play ; 
"  For  he  that  led  the  daunce,  the  cheefest  of  your  traine, 
"  I  mean  the  man  that  Edwards  hight,  by  cruell  death  is  slaine. 
"  Ye  courtiers  chaunge  your  cheere,  lament  in  wailefuU  wise, 
"  For  now  your  Orpheus  has  resjgnd,  in  clay  his  carcas  lies, 
"  O  ruth!  he  is  bereft,  that  whilst  he  lived  here, 
"  For  poet's  pen  and  passinge   witte,   could  have  no   Englishe 

peere. 
"  His  veine  in  verse  was  such,  so  stately  eke  his  style, 
"  His  fate  in  forging  sugred  songes,  wdth  cleane  and  curious  file  ; 
"As  all  the  learned  Greekes  and  Romaines  would  repine, 
"  If  they  did  live  againe,  to  viewe  his  verse  with  scornefuU  eine."^ 

The  rest  of  this  production  is  in  the  same  strain,  and  the  above 
will  be  a  sufficient  specimen.     C. 


THE  PROLOGUE. 


On  everie  syde,  wheras  I  glaunce  my  rovyng  eye, 

Silence  in  all  eares  bent  I  playnly  doe  espie  : 

But  if  your  egre  lookes  doo  longe  such  toyes  to  see. 

As  heretofore,  in  commycall  wise,  were  wont  ahroade  to 

bee. 
Your  lust  is  lost,  and  all  the  pleasures  that  you  sought, 
Is  frustrate  quite  of  toying  playes.     A  soden  change  is 

wrought  : 
For  loe,  our  aucthors  muse,  that  masked  in  delight. 
Hath  for st  his  penne  against  his  kinde^,  no  more  such 

sportes  to  write. 
Muse  he  that  lust,  {right  worshipfull)  for  chaunce  hath 

made  this  change, 
For  that  to  some  he  seemed  too  much  in  yonge  desires  to 

range : 
In  whiche,  right  glad  to  please,  seyng  that  he  did  offende, 
Of  all   he  humblie  pardon   craves:    his  pen   that  shall 

amende. 
And  yet  (worshipfull  audience)  thus  much  I  dare  advouche, 
In  commedies  the  greatest  skyll  is  this,  rightly  to  louche 
All  thynges  to  the  quick  e ;  and  eke  to  frame  eche  person  so. 
That  by  his  common  talke,  you  may  his  nature  rightly 

knoiv  : 
A  royster  ought  not  preache,  that  were  to  straunge  to 

heare, 
But  as  from  vertue  he  doth  swerve,  so  ought  his  wordes 

appeare : 
The  olde  man  is  sober,  the  yonge  man  rashe,  the  lover 

triumphyng  in  joyes. 
The  matron  grave,  the  harlot  wilde,  and  full  of  wanton 

toyes. 

'^  kinde]  See  note  7  to  Ferrex  and  Porrex  in  this  vol. 


181 

Whiclie  all  in  one  course,  they  no  wise  doo  agree ; 
So  correspondent  to  their  kinde  their  speeches  ought  to  be. 
Which  speeches  well  pronounste^  with  action  lively  framed. 
If  this  offende  the  lookers  on,  let  Horace  then  be  blamed, 
Which  hath  our  author  taught  at  schole,  from  whom  he 

doth  not  swarve, 
In  all  suche  kinde  of  exercise  decorum  to  observe. 
Thus  much  for  his  defence  (he  sayth)  as  poetes  earst  have 

donne. 
Which  heretofore  in   commodles  the  self  same  rase  did 

ronne. 
But  now  for  to  be  brief e,  the  matter  to  expresse. 
Which  here  wee  shallpresent,  is  this  :  Damon  and  Pithias. 
A  rare  ensample  offrendship  true,  it  is  no  legend  lie, 
But  a  thynge  07ice  donne  tndeede,  as  hystories  doe  discrie. 
Whiche  doone  of  yore  in  huge  time  past,  yet  present 

shall  be  here. 
Even  as  it  wtre  in  dooyngenow,  so  lively  it  shall  appeare. 
Lo  here  in  SiracuscE  th'  auncient  towne,  which  once  the 

Romaines  wonne, 
Here  Dionisius  pallace,  within  whose  courte  this  thing 

most  strange  was  donne. 
M^hich  matter  mixt  with  myrth  and  care,  a  just  name  to 

applie. 
As  seemes  most  ft,  wee  have  it  termed,  a  tragicall  com- 

medie. 
Wherein  talkyng  of  courtly  toyes,we  doe  protest  this  fat, 
Wee  talke  of  Dionisius  courte,  wee  meane  no  court  but 

that  : 
And  that  we  doo  so  meane,  who  wysely  calleth  to  minde 
The  time,  the  place,  the  author^,  here  most  plainely  shall 

it  finde. 
Loe  this  I  speake'^for  our  defence,  lest  of  others  we  should 

be  shent^ : 
But  worthy  audience,  wee  you  pray,  take  thinges  as  they 
be  ment; 

3  author]  autliours,  1st.  edit. 
*  speake]  spake,  2d.  edit. 

5  be  shent :  To  ahend,  says  Mr.  Steevens,  is  to  reprove  harshly,  to 
treat  with  injurious  language.    Note  to  Hamlet,  A.  3.  S.  2. 
Again,  in  Ascham's  Report  and  Discourse.    Bennet's  Edition, 


182 

Whose  upright  judgement  we  doo  crave,  with  heedfull 

ears  and  eye 
To  here  the  cause,  and  see  tW  effect  of  this  newe  tragicall 

commedie.  [Exit. 

p.  38 :  "A  wonderfuU  follie  in  a  great  man  himselfe,  and  some 
"  piece  of  miserie  in  a  whole  commonwealth,  where  fooles  chiefly 
"  and  flatterers  may  speake  freely  what  they  wilJ,  and  wise  men 
"  and  good  men  shal  commonly  be  shent,  if  they  speake  what  they 
*'  should." 


THE  SPEAKERS    NAMES. 

Aristippus,  a  pleasant  gentUman. 

Carisophus,  a  parasite. 

Damon,    |   two  gentlemen  of  Greece, 

Stephano,  servant  to  Damon  and  Piihias, 

Will,  Aristippus  lackey. 

Jacke,  Car.sophus  lackey. 

Snap,  the  porter. 

DiONisiu>,  the  kynge. 

EuBULUs,  the  kynge' s  counselour. 

G RON  NO,  the  hangman. 

Grimme,  the  colyer. 


DAMON  AND  PITHIAS.* 


Here  entreth  Aristippus. 
Aristippus.  Tho'  strange  (perhaps)  it  seemes  to  some, 
That  I,  Aristippus,  a  courtier  am  become: 
A  philosopher  of  late,  not  of  the  meanist  name, 
But  now,  to  the  courtly  behaviour,  my  lyfe  I  frame; 
Muse  he  that  lyst,  to  you  of  good  skill, 
I  say  that  I  am  a  phylosopher  styll. 
Lovers  of  wisdom,  are  termed  philosophers^, 
Then  who  is  a  philosopher  so  rightly  as  I  ? 
For  in  lovyng  of  wisdom,  proofe  doth  this  trie, 
Thditfrustra  sapit,  qui  non  sapit  sibi, 
I  am  wyse  for  myselfe,  then  tell  me  of  troth, 
Is  not  that  great  wisdom,  as  the  world  goth  ? 

*  Although  it  is  obvious  that  great  paius  were  taken  by  Mr. 
Reed  and  others,  (to  say  nothing  of  Dodsley,)  in  the  collation  of 
this  dramatic  piece,  yet  they  left  it  in  a  very  imperfect  state.  In 
the  course  of  it  not  less  than  fifty  important  variations  and  errors 
have  been  detected,  consisting  of  words  omitted,  and  words  acci- 
dentally inserted  independently  of  errors  of  the  press  for  which  of 
course  an  Editor  was  not  responsible.  It  is  hoped  that  it  will  be 
now  found  more  uniformly  correct,  although  the  Editor  can  scarcely 
flatter  himself  that  the  reprint  may  not  be  still  found  defective.    C. 

^philosophers,']  Philosophie,  both  Editions.  The  alteration  by 
Mr.  Dodsley. 

And  both  the  editions  are  perhaps  right,  as  far  as  this  word  is 
concerned  :  the  error  lies  elsewhere  ;  for  it  will  be  remarked  that 
the  rhime  requires  philosophy  and  not  philosophers,  which  Mr.  Dodsley 
substituted.  The  following  is  suggested  as  the  correct  and  original 
reading. 

"  Lovyng  of  wisdom  is  termed  philosophie, 
"  Then  who  is  a  philosopher  so  rightly  as  1  V 

In  the  next  line  the  author  expressly  speaks  of  lovyng  of  wisdom, 
as  if  intending  to  employ  the  words  he  had  used  before.  At  the 
same  time  the  Editor  was  not  so  well  assured  of  the  accuracy  of  his 
emendation  as  to  warrant  the  insertion  of  it  in  the  text  in  opposition 
to  previous  authorities,    C. 


186  DAMON  AND  riTlIlAS. 


Some  philosophers  in  the  streete  go  ragged  and  torne, 

And  feede  on  vyie  rootes,  whom  boyes  laugh  toscorne  : 

But  I  in  fine  silkes  haunt  Dionisius  pallace, 

Wherin  with  dayntie  fare  myselie  I  do  solace. 

I  can  talke  of  philosophic  as  well  as  the  best, 

But  the  stray te  kynde  of  lyfe  I  leave  to  the  rest. 

And  1  professe  now  the  courtly  philosophic, 

To  crouche,  to  speake  fayre,  myselfe  1  applie, 

To  feede  the  kinges  humour  with  pleasant  devises. 

For  which,  I  am  called  Regius  canis. 

But  wot  ye  who  named  me  first  the  kinges  dogge"? 

It  was  the  roage  Diogenes,  that  vile  grunting  hogge. 

Let  him  rolle  in  his  tubbe,  to  winne  a  vaine  praise, 

In  the  conrte  pleasantly  I  wyll  spende  all  my  dayes; 

Wherin,  what  to  doo,  I  am  not  to  learne, 

What  wyll  serve  myne  owne  turne,  I  can  quickly  dis- 

cearne. 
All  my  tyme  at  schoole  I  have  not  spent  vaynly, 
I  can  helpe  one,  is  not  that  a  good  poinctof  philosophy? 
Here  entrelh  Carisophus. 
Carisophus.  1  beshrew   your   fine    eares,   since  you 

came  from  schoole, 
In  the  court  you  have  made  many  a  wiseman  a  foole: 
And  though  you  paint  out  your  fayned  phylosophie. 
So  God  helpe  me,  it  is  but  a  playne  kinde  of  flattery. 
Which  you  use  so  finely  in  so  pleasant  a  sorte. 
That  none  but  Aristippus  now  makes  the  kinge  sporte. 
Ere  you  came  hyther,  poore  I  was  sombody, 
The  king  delighted  in  mee,  now  I  am  but  a  noddy. 
Aristippus.  In  faith,  Carisophus,  you  know  yourselfe 

best, 
But  I  will  not  call  you  noddie,  but  only  in  jest, 
And  thus  I  assure  you,  though  I  came  from  schoole 
To  serve  in  this  court,  I  came  not  yet  to  be  the  kinges 

foole ; 
Or  to  fill  his  eares  with  servile  squirilitie : 
That  office  is  yours,  you  know  it  right  perfectlie. 
Of  parasites  and  sicophants  you  are  a  grave^  bencher, 
The  king  feedes  you  often  from  his  owne  trencher. 
^  grave]  great,  2d  edit. 


DAMON   AND   PITHIAS. 


187 


I  envye  not  your  state,  nor  yet  your  great  favour, 
Then  grudge  not  at  all,  if  in  my  behaviour 
I  make  the  kinge  mery  with  pleasant  urbanitie, 
Whom  I  neverabused  to  any  man's  injurie. 

Carisophns.  Be  cocke  sir,  yet  in  the  courte  you  doo* 
best  thrive, 
For  you  get  more  in  one  day  then  I  doo  in  five. 

Aristippus.  Why  man,  in  the  court,  doo  you  not  see 
Rewardes  geven  for  vertue  to  every  degres? 
To  rewarde  the  unworthy  that  worlde  is  done, 
The  court  is  changed,  a  good  thread  hath  bin  sponne 
Of  dogges  woll  heretofore,  and  why  ?  because  it  was 

liked, 
And  not  for  that  it  was  best  trimmed  and  picked : 
But  now  men's  eares  are  finer,  such  grosse  toyes  are 

not  set  by, 
Therfore  to  a  trimmer  kynde  of  myrth  myselfe  1  applye: 
Wherein  though  I  please,  it  commeth  not  of  my  desert, 
But  of  the  kinge's  favour. 

Carisophits.  It  may  so  be ;  yet  in  your  prosperitie, 
Dispise  not  an  olde  courtier :  Carisophus  is  he, 
Which  hath  long  time  fed  Dionisius'  humor: 
Diligently  to  pledse,  styll  at  hand;  there  was  never 

rumour 
Spread  in  this^  towne  of  any  smale  thinge,  but  I 
Brought  it  to  the  kinge  in  post  by  and  by. 
Yet  now  I  crave  your  friendship,  which  if  I  may  attayne. 
Most  sure  and  unfained  frindship  I  promyse  you  againe : 
So  we  two  linckt  in  frindshippe,  brother  and  brother. 
Full  well  in  the  court  may  helpe  one  another. 

Aristippus.  Bir  Lady,  Carisophus,  though  you  know 
not  philosophic. 
Yet  surely  you  are  a  better  courtier  then  I : 
And  yet  I  V.ot  so  evyll  a  courtier,  that  wyll  seerae  to 

dispise 
Such  an  olde  courtier  as  you,  so  expert  and  so  wyse. 
But  where  as  you  crave  myne,  and  offer  your  friendship 

so  willingly, 
With  hart  I   geve  you  tharikes    for    this  your  great 
curtesie : 
3  doo]  omitted  in  2d  edit.  ^  this]  the,  2d  edit. 


188  DAMON   AND   PlTHIAS. 


Assuring;  of  friendship  both  with  tooth  and  nayle, 
Whiles  life  lasteth,  never  to  fayle. 

Carisophus.  A  thousand  thankes  I  gave  you,  oh  friend 

Aristippus. 
Aristippus.  O  friend  Carisophus. 
Carisophus.  Howjoyfull  am  I,  sith  T  have  to  friend 

Aristippus  now ! 
Aristippus.  None  so  glad  of  Carisophus  friendship  as 
I,  I  make  God  a  vowe, 
I  speake  as  1  thinke,  beleve  me. 

Carisophus.  Sith  we  are  now  so  friendly  joyned,  it 
seemeth  to  mee, 
That  one  of  us  help  eche  other  in  every  degree: 
Prefer  you  my  cause  when  you  are  in  presence, 
To  further  your  matters  to  the  kinge,  let  me  alone  in 
your  absence. 
Aristippus.  Friend  Carisophus,  this  shall  be  done  as 
you  would  wish: 
But  I  pray  you  tell  mee  thus  much  by  the  way, 
Whither  now  from    this    place    wyll    you   take    your 
journay  ? 
Carisophus.  I  wyll  not  dissemble,  that  were  against 
friendship, 
I  goe  into  the  citie  some  knaves  to  nip. 
For  talke  with  their  goodes,  to  encrease  the  kynges 

treasure, 
In  such  kinde  of  service  I  set  my  cheefe  pleasure : 
Farev/el,  friend  '°  Aristippus,  now  for  a  time.         [Exit. 
Aristippus,  Adewe,  friend  Carisophus — In  good  faith 
now. 
Of  force  I  must  laugh  at  this  solempne  vow. 
Is  Aristippus  linkt  in  friendship  with  Carisophus  ? 
Quid  cum  tanto  asino,  talis  philosophus  ? 
They  say,  Morum  similitudo  consuUat  amiddas* ; 
Then  how  can  this  friendship  betwene  us  two  come  to 


^^ friend]    omitted  in  2d  edit. 

*  "-Morum  similitudo  conmltat  amicitias.]    I  tliink  we  should  read 
conciliat.     Conciliat  et  conjungit  inter  se  liominei?.     Cic.  Oft',  i.  16. 


DAMOX   AND  PITIIIAS.  189 


^^  We  are  as  like  in  condicions  as  Jacke  Fletcher  and 

his  bowlt ; 
I  brought  up  in  learnyng,  but  he  is  a  very  dolt, 
As  touching  good  letters;  but  otherwise  such  a  craftie 

knave, 
Yf  you  seeke  a  whole  region  his  lyke  you  can  not  have : 
A  villaine  for  his  life,  a  varlet  died  in  graine, 
You  lose  money  by  him  ''^  if  you  sell  him  for  one  knave, 

for  hee  serves  for  twaine  : 
A  flatteryng  parasite,  a  sicophant  also, 
A  common  accuser  of  men,  to  the  good  an  open  foe. 
Of  halfe  a  worde,  he  can  make  a  legend  of  lies. 
Which  he  wyll  advouch  with  such  tragicall  cryes> 
As  though  all  were  true  that  comes  out  of  his  mouth. 
Were  he  indede  to  be  hanged  by  and  by,* 
He  cannot  tell  one  tale,  but  twyse  he  must  lie. 
He  spareth  no  man's  life  to  get  the  kinge's  favour. 
In  which  kind  of  servis  he  hath  got  such  a  savour,t 
That  he  wyll  never  leave.     Methinke  then  that  I 
Have  done  verie  wisely  to  joyne  in  friendship  with  him, 

lest  perhaps  I 
Comming  in  his  way  might  be  nipt ;   for   such   knaves 

in  presence. 
We  see  oft  times  put  honest  men  to  silence : 

"  We  are  as  like  in  condicions,  as  Jacke  Fletcher  and  his  bowlQ  A 
Fletcher  is  a  maker  of  arrows,  from  Jleche  an  arrow,  Fr.  The 
Fletchers  Company  had  several  charters  granted  to  them,  though  at 
present,  I  believe,  they  have  only  a  nominal  existence.  Aristippus 
means  to  say,  that  he  differs  as  much  in  disposition  from  Cari- 
sophns,  as  Jack  the  arrousmith  varies  in  quality  from  a  bolt  or  arrow 
of  his  own  making.     S. 

1^  —  if  you  sell  him  for  one  knave,  for  hee  serves  for  tivainel  So,  in 
Leke  to  Leke,  quoth  the  Devil  to  the  Collier,  1.589  : 

"  There  thou  mayst  be  called  a  knave  in  grane, 
"  And  where  knaves  be  scant  thou  mayst  go  for  twayne." 
See  a  Note  on  TJie  Two  Gentlemen  of  Ferona,  vol.  1,   edit.  1778, 
p.  176.     S. 

*  Both  the  old  editions  give  this  line  as  follows  : 

"  Where  in  dede  to  he  hanged  by  and  by." 
The  change  was  necessary  to  the  sense.     C. 
t  This  whole  line  is  omitted  in  the  latest  of  the  two  old  copies, 
and  as  BIr.  Reed  and  his  friend  remarked  in  their  notes,  sometimes 
even  the  variation  of  letters,  it  is  singular  that   they  should  have 
passed  over  this  circumstance  without  obsen'ation.     C. 


190  DAMON  AND   PITHIAS. 


Yet  I  have  played  with  his  beard  in  knitting  this  knot, 
I  promist  friendship,  but  you  love  few  wordes ;  I  spake 

it,  but  I  meant  '^  it  not. 
Who  markes  this  friendship  betwene  us  two 
Shal  judge  of  the  worldely  friendship  without  any  more 

a  doo. 
It  may  be  a  ryght  patron  thereof;  but  true  friendship 

in  deede 
Of  nought  but  of  vertue  doth  truly  proseede. 
But  why  do  I  now  enter  into  philosophic, 
Which  doo  professe  the  fine  kind  of  curtesie  ? 
I  wyll  hence  to  the  court  with  all  haste  I  may ; 
I  thinke  the  king  be  stirring,  it  is  now  bright  day. 
To  wait  at  a  pinche,  still  in  sight  I  meane, 
For  wot  ye  what  ?  a  new  broome  sweepes  cleane  >*. 
As  to  hie  honor  I  mynde  not  to  clime, 
So  I  meane  in  the  court  to  lose  no  time : 
Wherein,  happy  man  be  his  dole'%  I  trust  that  I 
Shall  not  speede  worst,  and  that  very  quickly.      [Exit, 
Here  enireth  Damon  and  Pithias  lyke  mariners. 
Damon.  O  Neptune,  immortall  be  thy  prayse, 
For  that  so  safe  from  Greece  we  have  past  the  seas 
To  this  noble  citie  Siracusse,  where  we 
The  auncient  raygne  of  the  Romaines  may  see. 
Whose  force  Greece  also  here  tofore  hath  knowne, 
Whose  vertue  the  shrill  trump  offame  so  farre  hath  blowne. 
Pithias.  My  Damon,  of  right  high  prayse  we  ought  to 

geve 
To  Neptune  and  all  the  gods,  that  we  safely  dydarryve: 

"  meant]  meane,  2d  edit. 

^*  a  new  broom e  sweepes  cleane]     This  was  proverbial.     See  Ray's 
Collection  of  Proverbs,  p.  140. 

"  happy  man  he  his  dolel  A  proverbial  expression  often  found  in 
ancient  writers.  Dole,  Mr.  Steevens  observes  (Note  to  The  Taming 
of  the  Shrew,  A.  1.  S.  1.),  is  any  thing  dealt  out  or  distributed, 
though  its  original  meaning  was  the  provision  given  away  at  the 
doors  of  great  men's  houses.  It  is  generally  written  he  his  dole, 
though  Ray,  p.  116,  gives  it  as  in  the  2d  4to.  by  his  dole.  Shak- 
speare  also  uses  the  phrase  in  The  Merrif  Wives  of  Whtdsor, 
Again,  in  Hudibras,  P.  1.  C.  S.  1.  637": 

"Let  us  that  are  unhurt  and  whole 
"  Fall  on,  and  happy  man  he^sdole,'" 
2 


DAMON  AND   PITHIAS. 


191 


The  seas,  1  tbinke,  with  contrary  winds  never  raged  so; 
I  am  even  yet  so  seasicke,  that  I  faynt  as  I  go ; 
Therfore  let  us  get  some  lodgyng  quickely. 
But  where  is  Stephano? 

Here  entreth  Stephano. 
Stephano.  Not   farre  hence :    a  pockes   take   these 
maryner  knaves, 
Not  one  would  healpe  mee  to  carry  this  stufFe,  such 

dronken  slaves 
I  thinke  be  accursed  of  the  goddes  owne  mouthes. 
Damon.  Stephano,  leave  thy  ragyng,  and  let  us  enter 
Siracusse,  * 

We  wil  provide  lodgyng,  and  thou  shalt  be  eased  of  thy 
burden  by  and  by. 
Stephano.  Good  mayster  make  haste,  for  I  tell  you 
playne, 
This  heavy  burden  puts  poore  Stephano  to  muchpayne. 
Pithias.  Come   on  thy  wayes,  thou  shalt  be  eased, 
and  that  ano^.  [Exeunt. 

Here  entreth  Carisophus. 
Carisophus.  It  is  a  true   saying,  that   oft  hath  bin 
spoken. 
The   pitcher   goeth   so   longe  to  the  water,   that  it  ^^ 

commeth  home  broken. 
My  owne  proofe  this  hath  taught  me,  for  truly  sith  1 
In  the  citie  have  used  towalkevery  slyly. 
Not  with  one  can  1  meete,  that  wyll  in  talke  joynewith 

mee. 
And  to  creepe  into  men's  bosomes^''' :  some  talke  for  to 

snatche, 
But  whiche,  into  one  trip  or  other,  I  might  trimly  them 

catche. 
And  so  accuse  them  :  now,  not  with  one  can  I  meete, 
That  wyl  joyne   in  talke  with  me,  I  am  shun'd  lyke  a 

devill  in  the  streete. 
My  credite  is  crackte  where  I  amknowne;  but,  I  heare 

say, 
Certaine  straingers  are  arrived,  they  were  a  good  pray, 
'"  it]  he,  1st  edit,  '7  hosomes]  bosome,  2d  edit. 


192  DAMON  AND  PITIIIAS. 


If  happely  I  might  meete  with  them,  I  fear  not  I, 
But  in  talke  I  should  trippe  them,  and  that  very  finely, 
Whiche  thinge,  I  assure  you,  I  doo  for  myne  owne  gayne. 
Or  els  I  woulde  not  plodde  thus  up  and  downe,  I  tell 

you  playne. 
Well,  I  wyll  for  a  whyle  to  the  court,  to  see 
What  Aristippus   doth ;   I  would  be   loth  in   faver   he 

should  overrun  me; 
He  is  a  subtile   chyle! ,  he   flattereth  so  fynely,  that  I 

feare  mee 
He  w^U  licke  the  fattefrom  my  lippes,  and  so  outwery 

mee: 
Therfore  I  wyll  not  be  longe  absent,  but  at  hand. 
That  all  his  fine  driftes  I  may  understande.  lExit. 

Here entreth  Wyll  and  Jacke. 
Wyll.  I  v\7onder  what  my  master  Aristippus  meanes 
now  adaies. 
That  he  leaveth  philosophie,  and  seekes  is  to  please 
Kyng  Dionisius  with  such  mery  toyes : 
In  Dionisius'  court  now  he  only  joyes, 
As  trim  a  courtier  as  the  best, 

Ready  to  aunswer,  quicke  in  tauntes,  pleasaunt  to  jeste ; 
A  lusty  companion  to  devise  with  fine  dames, 
Whose  humour  to  feede,  his  wylie  witte  he  frames. 

Jacke.  By  cocke,  as  you  say,  your  maister  is  a  minion  ; 
A  foule  coyle  he  keepes  in  this  court;  Aristippus  aione 
Now  rules  the  roaste  with  his  pleasant  devises, 
That  I  feare  he  wyll  put  out  of  conceit  my  maister 
Carisophus. 
Wyll.  Feare  not  that,   Jacke ;  for  like  brother  and 
brother. 
They  are  knit  in  true  friendship  the  one  with  the  other ; 
They  are  fellowes  you  knowe  and  honest  men  both, 
Therfore  the  one  to  hinder  the  other  they  will  be  iothe. 
Jacke.  Yea,  but  I  have  heard  say  there  is  falshod  in 
felowshippe. 
In  the  court   sometimes  one  geves  another  finely  the 
slippe: 

'^  seekei]  seeketh,  2d  edit. 


DAMON   AND  PITHIAS.  193 


Which  when  it  is  spied,  it  is  laught  out  with  a  scoffe  '^ 
And  ^yith  sporting  and  playing  quietly '°  shaken  of: 
In  which  kinde  of  toying  thy  master  hath  such  a  grace, 
That  he  wyll  never  blush,  he  hath  a  wodden  face. 
But,  Wyll,  my  maister  hath  bees  in  his  head, 
If  hee  fynde  mee  heare  pratinge,  I  am  but  dead  : 
He  is  still  trotting  in  the  citie,  there  is  sumwhat  in  the 

winde ; 
His  lookes  bewrayes  his  inwarde  troubled  mynde : 
Therfore  I  wyll  be  packing  to  the  courte  by  and  by; 
If  he  be  once  angry,  Jacke  shall  cry  wo  the  pye. 
Wyll.  Byr  lady,  if  I  tary  longe  here  of  the  same 

sauce  shall  I  tast, 
For  my  master  sent  mee  on  an  errand,  and  bad  mee 

make  haste, 
Therfore  we  wyll  departe  together.  [Exeunt. 

Here  entreth  Stephano. 
Stepliano.  Ofte  times  I  have  heard,  before  I  came 

hether, 
That  no  man  can  sei-ve  two  maisters  together; 
A  sentence  so  true,  as  moste  men  doo  take  it, 
At  any  time  false  that  no  man  can  make  it : 
And  yet  by  their  leave,  that  first  have  it  spoken, 
How  that  may  prove  false,  even  here  I  wyll  open  : 
For  I  Stephano,  loe,  so  named  by  my  father. 
At  this  time  serve  two  masters  together. 
And  love  them  a  lyke  the  one  and  the  other; 
I  dueiy  obey,  I  can  doo  no  other. 
A  bondman  I  am,  so  nature  hath  wrought  me, 
One  Damon  of  Greece,  a  gentleman,  bought  me. 
To  him  I  standebond,  yet  serve  I  another, 
Whom  Damon  my  master  loves  as  his  ov/ne  brother : 
A  gentleman  too,  and  Pithias  he  is  named. 
Fraught  with  vertue,  whom  vice  never  defamed. 
These  twoo,  since  at  schoole  they  fell  acquainted. 
In  rautuall  friendship  at  no  time  have  fainted. 
But  loved  so  kindly  and  friendly  eche  other. 
As  thoughe  they  were  brothers  by  father  and  mother. 
19  scoffe]  grace,  2d  edit.  '^°  quietl\f\  quickly,  2d  edit. 


194  DAMON   AND  PITHIAS. 


Pythagoras  learnynge  these  two  have  embrased, 
Which  bothe  are  in  vertue  so  narrowly  laced, 
That  all  their  whole  doings  do  fall  to  this  issue, 
To  have  no  respect  but  onely  to  vertue  : 
All  one  in  effecte,  all  one  in  their  goynge, 
All  one  in  their  study,  all  one  in  their  doyng. 
These  gentlemen  both,  beyng  of  one  condicion, 
Both  alike  of  my  service  have  all  the  fruition : 
Pithias  is  joyful!  if  Damon  be  pleased  : 
Yf  Pithias  be  served,  then  Damon  is  eased. 
Serve  one,  serve  both,  so  neare,  who  would  win  them  ? 
I  thinke  they  have  but  one  hart  betwene  them. 
In  travelyng  countreyes,  we  three  have  contrived  21, 
Full  many  a  yeare,  and  this  day  arrived 
At  Siracusse  in  Sicilia,  that  auncient  towne, 
Where  my  masters  are  lodged  ;  and  I  up  and  downe 
,Go  seekyng  to  learne  what  news  here  are  walkyng, 
To  harke  of  what  thynges  the  people  are  talkynge. 
I  lyke  not  this  soyle,  for  as  I  goe  ploddynge, 
I  marke  there  two,  there  three,  their  heades  alwayes 

noddinge, 
In  close  secret  wise,  styll  whisperyng  together. 
If  I  aske  any  question,  no  man  doth  answer  : 
But  shakyng  their  heads,  they  go  their  wayes   speak- 

inge, 
I  marke  how  with  teares  their  wet  eyes  are  leakynge  : 
Some  strangnesse  there  is,  that  breedeth  this  musinge. 
Well,  T  wyll  to  my  masters,  and  tell  of  their  using. 
That  they  may  learne,  and  walke  wisely  together : 
T  feare  we  shall  curse  the  time  we  came  h ether.    [Exit, 

^^  —  ive  three  have  Contrived, 

Full  many  a  yeare ;]  To  contrive,  in  this  place,  signifies  to  wear 
away,  to  spend,  from  contero,  Lat.  So,  in  Shakspeare's  Taming  of 
the  Shrew,  A.  1.  S.  2. 

Please  you  we  many  contrive  this  afternoon  1 
Totum  hunc  contrivi  diem.     S. 
See  also  the  Notes  of  Dr.  Warburton  and  Dr.  Johnson  on  the 
above  line  in  Shakspeare.  , 


DAMON  AND  PITIIIAS.  195 


Here  entreth  Aristippus  and  Wyll. 
Aristippus.    Wyll,  didst   thou  heare   the   ladies   so 

talke  of  mee  ? 
What  ayleth  them?  from  their  nippes^^*  shall  I  never 

be  free  ? 
Wyll.  Good  faith,  sir,  all  the  ladies  in  the  courte  do 

plainly  report, 
That    without  mencion   of  them   you   can  make   no 

sporte  : 
They  are  your  playne  song  to  singe  descant  upon  ^^; 
If  they  weare  not,  your  mirth  were  gone. 
Therfore,  master,   jest   no  more  with  women  in  any 

wise. 
If  you  doo,  by  cocke,  you  are  lyke  to  know  the  price. 
Aristippus.   Byr  lady,  Wyll,  this  is  good  counsell : 

playnely  to  jest 
Of  women,  proofe  hath  taught  mee  it  is  not  the  best: 
I  wyll   change  my  coppy,  how   be   it   I   care   not   a 

quinche^ 
I  know  the  galde  horse  will  soonest  winche : 
But  learne  thou  secretly  what  prively  they  talke 
Of  me  in  the  courte :  among  them  slyly  walke, 
And  bring  me  true  newes  thereof. 

fVylL   I   wyll,  sir,  maister  therof  have  no    doubt, 

fori 
Wheare  they  talke  of  you  wyll  enforme  you  perfectly. 
Aristippus.  Do  so,  my  boy  :  if  thou  bringe  it  finely 

to  passe, 
For  thy  good  service  thou  shalt  go  in  thine  olde  coate 

at  Christmas.  [Exeunt, 


^I*  nippes]  taunts,  or  sarcasms.     See  Johnson.     N. 

"■■^^  playne  song,  to  singe  descant  npon,']  Plain  song,  is  planus  cantus, 
uni^form  modulation.  Descant,  is  musical  paraphrase.  See  a  Note 
on  The  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  vol.  3,  p.  6S. ;  and  another  on 
King  Richard  III.  vol.  7.  p.  6.  edit.  1778.     S. 

'■i^  I  care  not  a  quinche.]  Spenser  has  this  word,  which,  as  Dr. 
Johnson  observes,  appears  to  be  the  same  as  loinch.  It  should  seem 
to  be  expressive  of  some  slight  degree  of  pain,  and  in  this  instance 
to  mean  the  same  as  if  the  speaker  had  said,  I  care  not  sl  fillip.     S.  ^ 


196  DAMON  AND   PITHIAS. 


Enter  Damon,  Pjthias,  Stephano. 
Damon.  Stephano,  is  all  this  true  that  thou  hast  tolde 

me? 
Stephano.  Sir,  for  lies  hetherto  ye  never  controlde 
mee. 
Oh  that  we  had  never  set  foote  on  this  land, 
Where  Dionisius  raygnes  with  so  bloody  a  hande ! 
Every  day  he  sheweth  some  token  of  crueltie, 
With  blood  he  hath  filled  all  the  streetes  in  the  citie  : 
I  tremble  to  heare  the  people's  murmuring, 
I  lament  to  see  his  most  cruell  dealyng : 
I  thinke  there  is  no  suche  tyraunt  under  the  sunne. 
O,  my   deare   masters,  this   mornyng,  what  hath  he 
done! 
Damon.  What  is  that  ?  tell  us  quickly. 
Stephano.  As  I  this  mornyng  past  in  the  streete. 
With  a  wofull  man  (going  to  his  death)  did  I  meete. 
Many  people  folowed,  and  I  of  one  secretly 
Asked  the  cause,  why  he  was  condemned  to  die  ? 
Whispered  in  mine  eare,  nought  hath  he  done   but 

thus, 
"^  In  his  sleape  he  dreamed  he  had  killed  Dionisius : 
Wliich  dreame  tolde  abrode,  was  brought  to  the  kinge 

in  poste, 
By  whome,  condemned  for  suspicion,  his  lyfe  he  hath 

lost. 
Marcia  was  his  name,  as  the  people  sayde. 

Pithias.    My  deare   friende   Damon,  I   blame   not 
Stephano 
For  wishyng  we  had  not  come  hether,  seeyinge  it  is  so, 

2*  In  his  sleape  he  dreamed  he  killed  Dionisius.']  A  late  writer  observes, 
that  "  Dionysius  the  tyrant  is  said  to  have  punished  with  death 
"  one  of  his  subjects,  for  dreaming  he  had  killed  him.  This  was 
*'  hardly  more  iniqiutous  than  the  execution  of  the  gentleman,  who 
"  having  a  white  deer  in  his  park,  which  was  killed  by  Edward  the 
"  Fourth,  wished  the  deer,  horns  and  all,  in  the  belly  of  him  that 
*'  counselled  the  king  to  kill  it,  whereas  in  truth  no  man  counselled  the 
"  king  to  it:  or  than  the  attainder  and  execution  of  Algernon 
"  Sydney,  on  the  evidence  of  private  and  unpublished  papers, 
"  without  any  proof,  or  even  a  suggestion,  of  their  intended  pub- 
i'  lication."     Principles  of  Penal  Law,  C.  11. 


DAMON   AND  PITHIAS.  l97 


That  for  so  small  cause,  suche  cruell  death  doth  insue. 
Damon.    My  Pithias,  where  tirantes  raigne  suche 

cases  are  not  new. 
Which  fearynge  their  owne  state  for  great  crueltie^, 
To  sit  fast  as  they  thinke,  doo  execute  speedely 
All  suche  as  any  light  suspition  have  tainted. 

Stephano.  With  such  quicke  karvers  I  lyst  not  be 

acquainted. 
Damon.  So  are  they  never  in  quiet,  but  in  suspicion 

styll. 
When  one  is  made  away,  they  take  occasion  another  to 

kyll: 
Ever  in  feare,  having  no  trustie  friende,  voyd  of  all 

people's  love, 
And  in  their  owne  conscience  a  continuall  hell   they 

proove. 
Pithias.  As  thynges  by  their  contraryes  are  always 

best  prooved. 
How  happie  then  are  mercifull  princes  of  their  people 

beloved  ! 
Havyng  sure  friends  every  wheare  no  feare  doth  touch 

them, 
They  may  safely  spend  the  daye  pleasantly,  at  night 

Secure  dormiunt  in  utramque  aurem, 
O  my  Damon,  if  choyce  were   oifred   mee,  I   would 

choose  to  be  Pithias 
As  I  am  (Damon's   friende)  rather  then  to  be  kyng 

Dionisius. 
Stephano.  And  good  cause  why ;  for  you  are  entierly 

beloved  of  one. 
And  as  farre  as  I  heare,  Dionisius  is  beloved  of  none. 
Damon.  That  state  is  moste  miserable :  thrice  happy 

are  wee. 
Whom  true  love  hath  joyned  in  perfect  amytie : 
Which    amytie   first  sprong,  without  vaunting  be  it 

spoken,  that  is  true, 
Of  likelines  of  maners,  tooke  roote  by  company,  and 

now  is  conserved  by  vertue  ; 

'^^  for  great  crueltie.]  With  crueltie,  2d  edit. 


98  DAMON  AND  PITHIAS- 


Which  vertue  alwaies  though  ^^  worldly  things  do  not 

frame, 
Yet  doth  she  atchive  to  her  followers  immortall  fame : 
Wherof  if  men  were  carefull,  for  vertues  sake  onely 
They  would  honour  friendship,  and  not  for  commoditie. 
But  such  as  for  profite  in  friendship  do  lincke. 
When  stormes  come,  they  slide  away  sooner  then  a  man 

wyll  thinke. 
My  Pithias,  the  somme  of  my  talke  falles  to  this  issue, 
To  prove   no   friendship    is    sure,  but   that   which   is 

grounded  on  vertue. 
Pithias.  My  Damon,  of  this  thyng  there  needes  no 

proofs  to  mee, 
The  gods  forbyd,  but  that  Pithyas  with  Damon  in  al 

things  shuld  agree. 
For  why  is  it  said,  Amicus  alter  ipse, 
But  that  true  friendes  should  be  two  in  body,  but  one 

in  minde  ? 
As  it  were  transformed  into   another,  which  against 

kynde 
Though  it  seeme,  yet  in  good  faith,  when  I  am  alone, 
I  forget  I  am  Pithias,  methinke  I  am  Damon, 

Stephano.  That  could  I  never  doo,  to  forget  myselfe  ; 

full  well  I  know, 
Wheresoever  I  go,  that  I  am  pauper  Stephano  : 
But  I  pray  you,  sir,  for  all  your  phylosophie. 
See  that  in  this  courte  you  walke  very  wisely. 
You  are  but  newly  come  hether ;  beyng  straungers  ye 

know. 
Many  eyes  are  bent  on  you  in  the  st.reetes  as  ye  go : 
Many  spies  are  abroad,  you  can  not  be  too  circum- 
spect. 
Damon.  Stephano,  because  thou  art  carefull  of  mee 

thy  maister,  I  do  thee  praise ; 
Yet  thinke  this  for  a  suertie,  no  state  to  displease 
By  talke  or  otherwise  :  my  friende  and  I  entende,  we 

wyll  here 
As  men  that  come  to  see  the  soyle  and  maners  of  al 

men  of  every  degree. 

-®  though']  through,  both  editions.    The  alteration  by  Mr.  Dodsley. 


DAMON  AND   PITHIAS.  199 


Pithagoras  said,  that  this  worlde  was  Hke  a  stage '^', 
Wheron  many  play  their  partes  :  the  lookers-on,  the 

sage 
Phylosophers  are,  saith  he,  whose  parte  is  to  learne 
The  raaners  of  all  nations,  and  the  good  from  the  bad 
to  discerne. 
Stephana.  Good  faith,  sir,  concernynge  the  people 
they  are  not  gay. 
And  as  farre  as  I  see  they  be  mummers;  for  nought 

they  say, 
For  the  moste  parte,  what  so  ever  you  aske  them. 
The  soyle  is  suche,  that  to  live  heare  I  can  not  lyke. 
Damon.  Thou  speakest  accordynge  to  thy  learnynge, 
but  I  say, 
Omne  solum  Jorti  patricBf*  a  wise  man  may  lyve  every 

vvheare ; 
Therfore,  my  deare  friende  Pithias, 
Let  us  view  this  towne  in  everie  place, 
And  then  consider  the  peoples  maners  also. 

Pithias.  As  you  wyll,  my  Damon  ;  but  how  say  you 
Stephano  ? 
Is  it  not  best  ere  we  go  further  to  take  some  repast? 
Stephano.  In  faith,  I  lyke  well  this  question,  sir:  for 
all  your  haste, 
To  eate  somewhat,  I  pray  you,  think  it  no  folly ; 
It  is  hie  dinner  time,  I  know  by  my  belly. 

Damon.  Then  let  us  to  our  lodging  departe :  when 
dinner  is  done. 
We  wyll  view  this  citie  as  we  have  begonne.     [Exeunt. 
Here  entreth  Carisophus. 
Carisophus.  Once  agayne  in  hope  of  good  wynd,  I 
hoyse  up  my  sayle, 
I  goe  into  the  citie  to  finde  som  pray  for  myne  availe : 
I  hunger  while  I  may  see  the  straungers  that  lately 
Arrived,  I  were  safe  if  once  I  might  meete  them  happily. 
Let  them  barke  that  lust  at  this  kinde  of  gaine. 
He  is  a  foole  that  for  his  profit  will  not  take  payne : 

^"^  was  like  a  stage]  is  lyke  unto  a  stage,  2d  edit. 
*  This  sentence  stands  in  the  old  copies, 
Omnis  solum  fortis  pairia.     C. 


200  DAMON   AND  PITHIAS. 


Though  it  be  joyned  with  other  mens  hurt,  I  care  not 

at  all, 
For  profit  I  wyll  accuse  any  man,  hap  what  shall. 
But  soft,  syrs,  I  pray  you  huysh :  what  are  they  that 

comes  here? 
By  their  apparell  and  countinuaunce  some  strangers 

they  appeare. 
I  wyll  shrowde  my  selfe  secretly,  even  here  for  a  while. 
To  heare  all  their  talke,  that  I  may  them  beguyle. 
Htre  entreth  Damon  and  Stephano. 
Stephana.  A  shorte  horse  soone  curried'^*;  my  belly 
waxeth  thmner, 
I  am  as  hungry  now,  as  when  I  went  to  dinner: 
Your  philosophicall  diet  is  so  fine  and  small. 
That  you  may  eate  your  dinner  and  supper  at  once,  and 
not  surfaite  at  all. 
Damon.  Stephano,  much   meat   breedes  heavynes; 

tliinne  diet  makes  thee  light. 
Stephano.  I  may  be  lighter  thereby,  but  I  shall  never 

run  the  faster. 
Damon.  I  have  had  sufficiently  discourse  of  amitie 
Which  I  had  at  dinner  with  Pithias  ;   and  his  pleasaunt 

companie 
Hath  fully  satisfied  me :    it  doth  mee  good  to  feede 
myne  eyes  on  him. 
Stephano.  Course  or  discourse,  your  course  is  very 
course  ;  for  all  your  talke, 
You  had  but  one  bare  course,  and  that  was  pike,  rise 

and  walke: 
And  surely,  for  all  your  talke  of  philosophic, 
I  never  heard  that  a  man  with  wordes  could  fill  his 

belly. 
Feede  your  eyes  (quoth  you)  the  reason  from  my  wis- 
dom swarveth, 
I  stared  on  you  both,  and  yet  my  belly  starveth. 

Damon.  Ah   Stephano,    small   diet   maketh    a    fine 

memorie. 
Stephano.  I  care  not  for  your  craftie  sophistrie, 

-s  A  shorte  horse  soone  curried ;]   See  Ray's  Proverbs,  p.  156. 


DAMON   AND   PITHIAS.  201 


You  two  are  fine,  let  mee  be  fed  like  a  grose  knave  styll 
I  pray  you  licence  mee  for  a  while  to  have  my  will, 
At  home  to  tary,  whiles  you  take  vevv  of  this  citie : 
To  fynde  some  odde  victualles  in  a  corner  I  am  verie 

wittie. 
Damon.  At  your  pleasure,  sir,  I  wyll  wayte  on  my 

selfe  this  daye ; 
Yet  attende  upon  Pithias,  whiche  for  a  purpose  tarieth 

at  home : 
So  doyng,  you  wayte  upon  mee  also. 

Stephana.  With  winges  on  my  feete  I  go.  [Exit. 

Damon.  Not  in  vain  the  poet  sayeth,  Naturam  furcd 

erpellas,  tamen  usque  recurrit ; 
For  trayne  up  a  bondman  never  to  so  good  a  behaviour, 
Yet  in  some  poinct  of  servilitie  he  wyll  savour : 
As  this  Stephano,  trustie  to  mee  his  master,  lovyng  and 

kinde. 
Yet  touchyng  his  belly  a  very  bondman  I  him  finde. 
He  is  to  be  borne  withall,  beyng  so  just  and  true, 
I  assure  you,  I  would  not  chaunge  him  for  no  new : 
But  mee  thinkes,  this  is  a  pleasant  citie. 
The  seate  is  good  ^'\  and  yet  not  stronge,  and  that  is 

great  pittie. 
Carisophus.  I  am  safe,  he  is  myne  owne. 
Damon.  The  ayre  subtle  and  fine,  the  people  should 

be  wittie. 
That  dwell  under  this  climate  in  so  pure  a  region : 
A  trimmer  plotte  I  have  not  seene  in  my  peregrination. 
Nothing  mislyketh  mee  in  this  countrey. 
But  that  I  heare  such  mutteryng  of  crueltie : 
Fame  reporteth  strange  thynges  of  Dionisius, 
But  kynges  matters  passyng  our  reache,  pertayne  not 

to  us. 
Carisophus.  Dionisius  (quoth  you)  since  the  worlde 

began, 
In  Cicilia  never  raygned  so  cruell  a  man  : 

si>  The  seate  is  good,']  The  seate  means  the  situation.  See,  in  Dr. 
Johnson's  Dictionary,  instances  of  it,  from  Raleigh,  Hayward, 
Bacon,  and  B,  Jonson.    N. 

So  Duncan,  in  Macbeth,  says  : 

"  This  castle  hath  a  pleasant  seat. 


202  DAMON   AND  PITMIAS. 


A  despightfull  tirant  to  all  men,  I  marvayie  I, 
That  none  makes  him  away,  and  that  sodaynly. 

Damon.  My  friende,  the  goddes  forbyd  so  crueli  a 

thynge, 
That  any  man  should  lift  up  his  sworde  against  the 

kynge : 
Or  seeke  other  meanes  by  death  him  to  prevent. 
Whom  to  rule  on  earth  the  mightie  goddes  have  sent. 
But,  my  frende,  leave  ofF  this  talke  of  kynge  Dionisius. 
Carisophus.   Why,  sir  ?  he  cannot  hear  us. 
Damon.  What  then?    An  nescis  longas  regibus  esse 

manus  ? 
It  is  no  safe  talkynge  of  them  that  strykes  afarre  off. 
But  leavyng  kynges  matters,  I  pray  you  shew  me  this 

curtesie. 
To  describe  in  few  wordes  the  state  of  this  citie. 
A  travayler  I  am,  desirous  to  know 
The  state  of  eche  countrey,  wher  ever  I  go  : 
Not  to  the  hurt  of  any  state,  but  to    get  experience 

therby. 
It  is  not  for  nought,  that  the  poet  doth  crye. 
Die  mihi  musa  virum,  captce  post  tempera  Troja, 
Qui  mores  hominum  multorum  vidit  et  urbes.  * 
In  whiche  verses,  as  some  writers  do  scan, 
The  poet  describeth  a  perfect  wise  man  : 
Even  so,  I  beyng  a  stranger,  addicted  to  phylosophie, 
To  see  the  state  of  countreyes  my  selfe  I  applie. 

Carisophus.  Sir,  I   lyke  this  entent,  but  may  I  aske 

your  name  without  scorne  ? 
Damon.  My  name  is  Damon,  well  knowen  in  my 

countrey,  a  gentleman  borne. 
Carisophus.    You  do  wisely,  to  serche  the  state  of 

eche  countrie 
To  beare  intelligence  therof,  whether  you  lust.      He 

is  a  spie, 

*  This  quotation  is  given  as  follows  in  both  the  old  copies. 

Die  mihi  musa  viruvi  captcc  post  tempora  TrqjcE  ^ 

Multorum  homines  mores  qui  vidit  et  urbes. 
Query — Was  it  meant  by  the  Author  that   Damon  should  mis- 
quote.    C. 


DAMON  AND  PITMIAS.  203 


Sir,  I  pray  you,  have  pacience  a  while,  for  I  have  to 

do  here  by : 
View  this  weak  parte  of  this  citie  as  you  stand,  and  I 

very  quickly 
Wyll  retourne  to  you  agayne,  and  then  wyll  I  show 
The  state  of  all  this  countrie,  and  of  the  courte  also. 

[Exit. 
Damon.    I  thanke   you    for  your  courtesie. — This 
chaunceth  well  that  I 
Met  with  this  gentleman  so  happely, 
Whiche,  as  it  seemeth,  misliketh  some  thynge, 
Els  he  would  not  talke  so  boldly  of  the  kynge, 
And  that  to  a  stranger :    but  loe  were  he  comes  in 
haste. 

Here  entreth  Carjsophus  and  Snap. 
Carisophus.    ^°  This  is  he,  felow  :    Snap  snap  him 

up  :  away  with  him. 
Snap.  Good  felow,  thou  must  go  with  mee  to  the 

courte. 
Damon.  To  the  court,  sir  ?  and  why  ? 
Carisophus.  Well,  we  wyll  dispute  that  before  the 

kynge.     Away  with  hym  quickly. 
Damon.  Is  this  the  curtesie  you  promysed  mee,  and 

that  very  lately : 
Carisophus.  Away  with  hym,  I  say. 
Damon.    Use    no   violence,    I    wyll   go   with   you 
quietly.  [Exeunt  omnes. 

Here  entreth  Aristippus. 
Aristippus.  Ah,  sira,  byr  lady,  Aristippus  lykes  Dio- 
nius'  court  very  well, 
Whiche  in  passyng  joyes,  and  plasures,  doth  excell. 
Where  he  hath  DapsilcB  ccenas  gemalis  lectes  tt  auro 
Fulgentii  turgmani  zonam,  * 
I  have  plied  the  harvest,  and  stroke  when  the  yron  was 

hotte ; 
When  I  spied  my  time,  I  was  not  squemish  to  crave, 
God  wotte. 

30  This  is  he,  &c.]  This  is  the,  &c.  2d  edit. 

*  Instead  of  this  corrapted  nonsense,  I  suppose  we  should  read, 


204  DAMON    AND    PITIIIAS. 


But  with  some  pleasant  toye^^,  I  crept  into  the  kinges 
bosome, 

For  whiche  Dionisius  gave  me  Juri  talentum  magnum  ; 

A  large  rewarde  for  so  simple  services. 

What  then?  the  kinges  prayse  standeth  chiefly  in 
bountifulnesse : 

Which  thynge,  though  I  tolde  the  kyng  very  plea- 
santly, 

Yet  can  I  proove  it  by  good  writers  of  great  anti- 
quitie : 

But  that  shall  not  neede  at  this  time,  since  that  I  have 
aboundafltly. 

When  I  lack  hereafter,  1  wyll  use  this  poinct  of  phy- 
losophie : 

But  now,  where  as  I  have  felt  the  kynges  lyberalytie. 

As  princely  as  it  came,  I  wyll  spende  it  as  regallie : 

Money  is  current,  men  say,  and  currant  comes  of  Cur- 
rendo  :  ^ 

Then  wyll  I  make  money  runne,  as  his  nature  requir- 
eth,  I  trow. 

For  what  becomes  a  philosopher  best. 

But  to  dispise  mony  above  the  rest? 

And  yet,  not  so  despise  it,  but  to  have  in  store, 

Enoughe  to  serve  his  owne  tourne,  and  somewhat 
more. 

With  sondrie  sportes  and  tauntes,  yester  night  I  de- 
lighted the  kinge, 

That  with  his  lowde  laughter  the  whole  courte  did 
ring, 

And  I  thought  he  laught  not  merier  then  I,  when  I 
got  this  money. 

But,  mumbouget^*  for  Carisophus  I  espie 

dapsUes  ctEuas,  genioles  lectos,  et  auro 


Fulgentem  tyranne  zonam. 
i.  e.  plentiful  suppers,  luxurious  couches,   and  the  king's  purse 
full  of  gold  at  command. 

Aristippus  was  not  intended  for  a  blunderer.     S. 

3'  toyes,^  tyoe,  1st  edit. 

32  mumbouget]  A  cant  term  for  be  silent ;  mum  and  budget  are 
the  words  made  use  of  by  Slender  and  Ann  Page  in  Tlie  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor, 


DAMON    AND  PlTHIAS.  206 


In  haste  to  come  hether :    I  must  handle  the  knave 

finely. 
Oh,  Carisophus,  my  dearest  frinde,  my  trusty  com- 

panyon ! 
What  newes  with  you  ?  where  have  you  been  solonge  ? 
Here  entreth  Carisophus. 
Carisophus.    My  best  beloved  friend   Aristippus,  I 
am  come  at  last, 
I  have  not  spent  all  ray  time  in  wast. 
I  have  got  a  pray,  and  that  a  good  one,  I  trow. 

Arisiippus.  What  pray  is  that?  faine  would  I  know. 
Carisophus.  Such  a  crafty  spie  I  have  caught,  I  dare 
say, 
As  never  was  in  Cicilia  before  this  day ; 
Suche  a  one  as  vewed  every  weake  place  in  the  citie, 
Survewed  the  haven,  and  each  bulwarke,  in  talke  very 

wittie : 
And  yet  by  some  wordes  him  selfe  he  dyd  bewray. 
Aristippus.    I  thinke  so  in  good  faith,  as  you  did 

handle  him. 
Carisophus.  I  handled  him  darkly,  I  joyned  in  talke 
with  himc  ourteously : 
But  when  we  were  entred,  I  let  him  speake  his  wyll, 

and  I 
Suckt  out  thus  much  of  his  words,  that  I  made  him 

say  playnely. 
He  was  come  hether  to  know  the  state  of  the  citie  ; 
And  not  onely  this,  but  that  he  would  understande 
The  state  of  Dionisius'  courte,  and  of  the  whole  land. 
Which  wordes  when  I  heard,  I  desired  him  to  staye. 
Till  I  had  done  a  little  businesse  of  the  way. 
Promising  him  to  returne  agayne  quickly ;  and  so  did 

convaye 
Myselfe  to  the   court   for  Snap  the  tipstafFe,  which 

came  and  upsnatched  him, 
Brought  him  to  the  court,  and  in  the  porter's  lodge 

dispatched  him, 
After  I  ran  to  Dionisius,  as  fast  as  I  could. 
And  bewrayed  this  matter  to  him,  which  I  have  you 
tolde;  .  ,. 


206  DAMON   AND  PITH  I  AS. 


WTiich  thinge  when  hee  heard,  beinge  very  mery  be- 
fore, 
He  soddainly  fell  in  durap,  and  fomynge  like  a  bore, 
At  last,  he  swore  in  g.eat  rage,  that  he  should  die 
By  the  sworde,  or  the  wheele,  and  that  very  shortly. 
I  am  too  shamiast,  for  my  travell  and  tovle 
I  crave  nothinge  of  Dionisus,  but  onelv  his  spoyle  : 
Litle  hath  he  abjut  him.  but  a  few  motheaten  crownes 
of  golde, 
Cha  poucht  them   up    all   readv,    thev   are    sure  in 
hold  : 
And  now  I  goe  into  the  citie,  to  say  sooth. 
To  see  what  he  hath  at  his  lodginge  to  make  up  my 
mouth. 
Ariitippus.  My  Carisophus,  you  have  don  good  ser- 
vice.    But  what  is  the  spie's  name  ? 
Carisophus.  He  is  called  Damon,  borne  in  Greece, 

from  whence  latly  he  came. 
Aristippus.  By  my  trouth,  I  will  goe  see  him,  and 

speak  with  him  to  if  I  may. 
Carisophus.  Doo  so,  I  pray  you  ;  but  yet  by  the  way, 
As    occasion    sen-eth,   commende  my  sers-ice  to   the 
kinge. 
Aristippus.   Dictum  sapienti  sat  est  \    friend  Cariso- 
phus, shal  I  forget  that  thinge  ? 
No.  I  warrant  you  :  though  I  say  litle  to  your  face, 
I  wyll  lay  on  with  my  mouth  for  you  to  Dionisius  *, 

when  I  am  in  place. 
If  I  speake  one  worde  for  such  a  knave  hang  mee. 

[Exit. 
Carisophus.  Our  fine  Phylosopher,  our  trimme  learned 
elfe, 
Is  gone  to  see  as  false  a  spie  as  himselfe. 
Damon  smatters  as  well  as  he,  of  craftie  pilosophie, 
And  can  tourne  cat  in  the  panne '^  very  pretily: 

*  The  first  ediuon  reads  ; 

*•■  I  wyll  lay  one  mouth  fnr  you  to  Dionisius,"  £tc. 
which  was  altered  in  the  2d  ediuon  as  it  stands  in  the  text.     C. 

**  toume  cat  in  the  pannel  A  proverbial  erpression,  of  which  it  is 
difficult  to  give  a  satisfactory  explanation,  though  the  meaning  of  it 
is  sufficiendy  obvious,     A  gentleman,  who  formerly  wrote  in  Tf.e 


DAMON   AND   PITIIIAS.  907 


But    Carisophus    hath    given    him    such   a    mightie 

checke, 
As  I  thinke  in  the  ende  will  breake  his  necke 
What  care  I  for  that?  why  would  ^  he  then  prie, 
And  learn  the  secret  estate  of  our  countrey  and  citie  ? 
He  is  but  a  strangrer,  bv  his  fall  let  others  be  wise, 
I  care  not  who  fall  so  that  I  raav  rvse. 
As  for  fine  Aristippus,  I  wyll  keepe  in  with  hym, 
He  is  a  shrewde  foole  to  deale  withall,  he  can  swvm ; 
And    yet  by  my  trouth,  ^^  to  speake  my  conscience 

plavnelv, 
I  wyll  use  his  friendship  to  mvne  owne  coramodytie : 
While   Dionisius    favoureth    him.    Aristippus    shal    be 

mine ; 
But  if  the  kyng  once  frowne  on  him,  then  good  night, 

Tomaline  : 
He  shal  be  as  straunge,   as  though e  I  never  sawe  hvm 

before. 
But  I  tarie  too  longe,  I  wyll  prate  no  more. 
Jacke  come  away. 
Jacke.   At  hande,  syr. 

Carisophus.  At  Damon's  lodgyngr  if  that  you  see 
Any  sturre  to  arise,  be  styll  at  hand  by  race : 


Gentleman's  '^Ta^azin e  nnier  a  feigiied  name,  supposes  the  word  cat 
should  be  changed  to  rate ;  "  an  old  word  for  a  cal:e,  or  other  au- 
"  malette,  which  being  usually /r?Vcf.  and  conseqoenfly  turnd  in  the 
"  pan,  does  therefore  very  aptly  express  the  changing^  of  sides 
"  in  politics  or  religion,  or,  as  we  otherwise  say,  the  turning  one's 
"  coat.*'  Gent.  Ma^.  1754.  p.  66.  Another  -wTiter,  however,  gives 
the  followins:  explanation  of  it :  "  Catipan,  to  turn  catipan,  from  a 
"  people  called  Catipani,  in  Calabria  and  Apulia,  who  got  an  ill  name 
"  bv  reason  of  their  perfidy  ;  very  falsely  by  \is  called  Cat  in  pan." 
Ibid.  p.  172. 

'^  uould]  should,  2d  edit. 

^  — to  speake  mmi  conscience  playnely, 

I  iLXjH  use  his  friendship  to  mune  ou'ne  commodytie  :]    CoTHmoditv  is 
interest.     So,  in  the  former  part  of  this  Play,'p.  19B, 

"  They  would  honour  friendship,  and  not  for  c<mmoditie :"  ' 

Km^  John,  A.  2.  S.  2. 

Commodity,  the  bias  of  the  world. 


208  DAMON  AND   PITHIAS. 


Rather  than  I  wyll  lose  the  spoyle,  I  wyll  blade  it  out. 

[Exeunt, 

Here  entereth  Pithias  and  Stephano. 
Pithias.  What  straunge  newes  are  these!    ah,  my 

Stephano, 
Is  my  Damon  in  pry  son,  as  the  voyce  doth  go  ? 

Stephano.  It  is  true,  oh  cruell  happe !  he  is  taken 

for  a  spie, 
And  as  they  say,  by  Dionisius  owne  mouth  condempned 

to  die. 
Pithias.  To  die!  alas  !  for  what  cause  ? 
Stephano.  A  sicophant  falsely  accused  hym  :  other 

cause  there  is  none. 
But  oh  Jupiter,  of  all  wronges  the  revenger, 
Seest   thou   this   unjustice,  and   wilt   thou    staie  any 

longer 
From  heaven  to    sende    downe  thy  hot  consumying 

fire, 
To  destroy  the  workers  of  wronge,  whiche  provoke  thy 

just  ire? 
Alas  !  maister  Pithias,  what  shall  we  do, 
Being  in  a  strange  countrey,  voyde  of  friendes,  and 

acquaintance  too  ? 
Ah,  poor  Stephano,  hast  thou  lived  to  see  this  daye, 
To  see  thy  true  mayster  unjustly  made  away  ? 

Pithias.  Stephano,  seeyng  the  matter  is  come  to  this 

extremytie, 
Let  us  make  vertue  our  friend,  of  meare  necessytie. 
Runne  thou  to  the  court,  and  understand  secretly 
As  muche  as  thou  canst  of  Damon's  cause,  and  I 
Will  make  some  means  to  entreate  Aristippus  : 
He  can  do  much  as  I  heare  with  king  Dionisius. 

Stephano.  I  am  gone,  sir — Ah,  I  would  to  God  my 

travayle  and  payne, 
Myght  restore  my  mayster  to  his  lybertie  ag  ayne ! 

Pithias.  Ah  wofuU  Pithias  I  sithe  now  1  am  alone, 
What  way  shall  I  first  beginne  to  make  my  mone? 
What  wordes  shall  I  finde  apt  for  my  complaynte  t 
Damon,  my  friend,  my  joy,  my  life,  is  in  peril,  of  force 

I  must  now  faint. 


DAMON  AND   PITHIAS.  209 


But,  oh  musicke,  as  in  joyfull  tunes*  thy  mery  notes  I 

did  borow, 
So  now  lend  mee  thy  yernfull  tunes,  to  utter  my  sor- 
row. 
Here  Pithias  singes,  and  the  regalles^^  play . 
Awake  ye  woful  wightes, 

That  longe  have  wept  in  wo  : 
Resigne  to  mee  your  plaintes  and  teares. 

My  haplesse  hap  to  sho. 
My  wo  no  tongue  can  tell^ 
Ne  pen  can  well  descrie  : 

O  ichat  a  death  is  this  to  heare 
Damon  my  friende  must  die  ! 

The  losse  of  worldly  wealthy 

Mannes  wisdome  may  restore, 
And  physicke  hath  provided  too 

A  salve  for  everie  sore  : 
But  my  true  frende  once  lost, 
No  arte  can  well  supplie  : 

Then,  what  a  death  is  this  to  heare, 
Damon  my  friend  must  die  ! 

My  mouth  refuse  thefoode, 

That  should  my  limmes  sustayne  : 

Let  sorow  sinke  in  to  my  hrest, 
And  ransacke  every  vayne  : 

*  Pertaps  we  ought  to  read  "  as  ia  joyfull  times"  wliicli  seems 
more  consistent  with  the  context,  and  tunes  is  an  ordinary  error  of 
the  press.     C 

36  regalles]  Regale  sorta  di  strumento  simile  all'  organo,  ma- 
minore.  Altieri  Dizion.  Ital.  ed  Ing.  Lord  Bacon  distinguishes 
between  the  regal  and  the  organ  in  a  manner  which  shews  them  to 
be  instruments  of  the  same  class.  "  The  sounds  that  produce  tones 
"  are  ever  from  such  bodies  as  have  their  parts  and  pores  equal,  as 
"  are  nightingale  pipes  of  regals  or  organs."  Nat.  Hist.  Cent.  2.  Sect. 
102.  But,  notwithstanding  these  authorities,  the  appellative  regal 
has  given  great  trouble  to  the  lexicographer,  whose  sentiments  with 
regard  to  its  signification  are  collected  and  brought  into  one  point 
of  view  by  Sir  John  Hawkins,  in  his  History  of  Miisick,  Vol.  11.  p. 
448,  from  whence  this  Note  is  extracted.  See  also  a  Note,  by  the 
Hon.  Daiaes  Banington,  to  Hamlet,  A.  3.  S.  2.  in  the  Edition  of 
Shakspeare  177S,  omitted  in  that  of  1778. 

VOL.  I.  P 


210  DAMON   AXD  PITIIIAS. 


You  Furies  all  at  once 

On  me  your  torments  trie  : 

Why  should  I  live,  since  that  ^s  /  heare 
Damon  my  friend  must  ss  die  ! 

Gripe  me,  you  greedy  greefs, 

And  present  pangues  of  death, 
You  systers  three,  tvith  cruell  handes, 
With  speed  come  ^^  stop  viy  breath  : 
Shrine  me  in  clay  alive, 

Some  good  man  stop  mine  eye  : 
0  death  com  now,  seing  I  heare 
Damon  my  friend  must  die. 

He  speakeih  this  after  the  songe. 
In  vaine   I  call  for  dearb,  which  heareth  not  my 
complaint : 
But  what  wisdome  is  this,  in  such  extremytie  to  faint? 
Multum  juvat  in  re  mala  animus  bonus. 
1  wyll  to  the  court  my  selfe,  to  make  friendes,  and  that 

presently. 
I  wyll  never  forsake  my  friende  in  time  of  miserie — 
But  do  I  see  Stephano  amazed  hether  to  ronne? 
Here  enireth  Stephano. 
Stephano.  O  Pithieis,  Pithias,  we  are  all  undone  ! 
Mine  owne  eares  have  sucked  in  mine  owne  sorow ; 
I  heard  Dionisius  sweare,  that  Damon  should  die  to 
morrow. 
Pithias.  How  camest  thou  so  neare  the  presence  of 
the  kynge, 
That  thou  mightest  heare  Dionisius  speake  this  thynge  ? 
Stephano.  By  friendship  I  gate  into  the  courte,  where, 
in  great  audience, 
I  heard  Dionisius  with  his  owne  mouth  geve  this  cruell 

sentence, 
By  these  expresse  wordes :  that  Damon  the  Greeke, 

that  craftie  spie, 
Without  farther  judgement,  to  morow  should  die  : 

37  sj/ice  that]  seeing,  2d  edit.  ^  must]  should,  1st  edit. 

39  come]  noTV,  1st  edit. 


DAMON    AND   PITHIAS.  211 


Beleeve  mee,  Pithias,  with  these  eares  I  heard  it  m  - 
selfe. 
Pithias.  Then  how  neare  is  my  death  also.    Ah,  woe 
is  mee  ! 
Ah,  my  Damon,  another  myselfe,  shall  I  forgo  thee? 
Stephano.  Syr,  there  is  no  tyme  of  lamentyng  now : 
it  behoveth  us 
To  make  meanes  to    them  which  can  doo  much  with 

Dionisius, 
That  he  be  not  made  awaye,  ere  his  cause  be  fully 

heard  ;  for  we  see, 
By  evyll  reporte,  thynges  be   made  to  princes  farre 

worse  then  they  bee. 
But  lo,   yonder  commeth   Aristippus,  in   great  favour 

with  kyng  Dionisius, 
Entreate  hym  to  speake  a  good  worde  to  the  kynge 

for  us, 
And  in  the  meane  season  I  wyll  to  your  lodgyng  to  see 
all  thynges  safe  there.  \^Exit. 

Pithias.  To  that  T  agree :  but  let  us  slip  aside  his 
talke  to  heare. 

Here  entreth  Aristippus. 
Here  is  a  sodayne  chaunge  indeede,  a  strange  meta- 
morphosis. 
This  courte  is  cleane  altered:  who  would  have  thought 

this? 
Dionisius  of  late  so  pleasant  and  mery 
Is  quite  changed  now  into  suche  melancholy, 
That  nothyng  can   please  hym :   he  walked   up   and 

downe, 
Fretting  and  chafyng,  on  everie  man  he  doth  frowne ; 
In  so  much,  that  when  I  in  pleasant  wordes  began  to 

play. 
So  sternly  he  frowned  on  mee,  and  knit  me  up  so  short, 
I  perceyve  it  is  no  safe  playing  with  lyons,  but  when  it 

please  ihem  ; 
If  you  claw  where  it  itch  not,  you  shall  disease  them. 
And  so  perhaps  get  a  clap  ;  myne  owne  proofe  taught 

mee  this, 
That  it  is  very  good  to  be  mery  and  wise. 


212  DAMON   AND  PITIIIAS. 


The  onel^  cause  of  this  hurly-burly  is  Carisophus,  that 

wicked  man, 
Which  lately  tooke  Damon  for  a  spie,  a  poore  gentle- 
man, 
And  hath  incenced  the  kynge  against  him  so  despigbt- 

f.iliy. 
That  Dionisius  hath  judged  him  tomorow  to  die. 
I  have  talkt  with  Damon,  whom  though  in  words   I 

found  very  wittie, 
Yet   was  he   more  curious  then  wise  in  viewyng  this 

citie  : 
But  truly,  for  aught  I  can  learne,  there  is   no  cause 

why 
So  sodenly  and  cruelly  he  should  be  condempned  to 

die: 
How  soever  it  be,  this  is  the  short  and  longe, 
I  dare  not  gainsay  the  kynge,  be  it  right  or  wrong : 
I  am  sory,  and  that  is  all  I  may  or  can  doo  in  this  case : 
Nought  avayleth  perswasion   where  frowarde  opinion 

taketh  place. 
Pithias.  Sir,  if  humble  sutes  you  would  not  dispise, 
Then  bow  on  ^°  mee  your  pitiful!  eyes. 
My  name  is  Pithias,  in  Greece  well  knowne, 
A  perfect  friend  to  that  wofull  Damon, 
Whiche  now  a  poore  captive  in  this  courte  doth  lie, 
By  the  kynges  owne  mouth,  as  1  here,  condemned  to  die ; 
For  whom  I  crave  your  masterships  goodnesse, 
To  stand  his  friende  in  this  his  great  distresse. 
Nought  hath  he  done  worthy  of  death,  but  very  fondly, 
Being  a  straunger,  he  vewed  this  citie 
For  no  evill  practises,  but  to  feede  his  eyes.  . 
But  seing  Dionisius  is  informed  otherwise, 
My  sute  is  to  you,  when  you  see  time  and  place, 
To  asswage   the    kinges  anger,  and   to  purchase    his 

grace : 
In  which  dooyng,  you  shall  not  doo  good  to  one  onely, 
But  you  shall  further  too*,  and  that  fully. 

4"  on]  unto,  2d  edit. 

*  i.  e.  "  But  you  shall  further  Uco,"  and  so  the  2d.  edition  prints 
it.     C. 


( 

DAMON   AND  PITHIAS.  2l3 


Aristippus.  My  friend,  in  this  case  I  can  doo  you  no 

pleasure. 
Pithias.  Syr,  you  serve  in  the  court,  as  fame  doth  tell. 
Aristippus,  I  am  of  the  court,  in  deede,  but  none  of 

the  counsell. 
Pithias.  As  I  heare,  none  is  in  greater  favour  with 

the  king,  then  you  at  this  day. 
Aristippus.  The  more  in  favour,  the  lesse  I  dare  say. 
Pithias.  It  is  a  courtiers  prayse  to  helpe  straingers 

in  miserie. 
Aristippus.  To  help  an  other,  and  hurte  myselfe,  it 

is  an  evyll  point  of  courtesie. 
Pithias.  You  shall  not  hurt  yourselfe  to  speake  for 

the  innocent. 
Aristippus.    He    is    not   innocent    whom    the   kinge 

judgeth  nocent. 
Pithias.  Why,  sir,  doo  you  thinke  this  matter  paste 

all  remedie? 
Aristippus.  So  farr  past,  that  Dionisius  hath  sworne, 

Damon  to  morow  shall  die. 
Pithias.  This  word  my  trembling  heart   cutteth   in 
two. 
Ah,  sir,  in  this  wofull  case  what  wist  I  best  to  doo  ? 
Aristippus.  Best  to  content  yourselfe,  when  there  is 
no  remedie, 
He  is  well  relived  that  forknoweth  his  miserie : 
Yet  if  any  comfort  be,  it  resteth  in  Eubulus, 
The  chiefest  counsellour  about  kinge  Dionisius  : 
Which  pitieth  Damons  case  in  this  great  extremitie, 
Perswadyng  the  kynge  from  all  kinde  of  cruel  tie. 
Pithias.   The  mightie  gods    preserve  you,  for  this 
worde  of  comforte. 
Takyng  my  leave  of  your  goodnesse,  I  wyll  now  resorte 
To  Eubulus,  that  good  counseller : 
But  harke  !  methinke  I  heare  a  trompet  blow. 

Aristippus.  The  kyng  is  at  hande,  stande  close  in  the 
prease"*^ :  beware,  if  he  know 
You  are  friend  to  Damon,  he  wyll  take  you  for  a  spie 
also. 

■"  prcase]  crowd.     See  Note  ii9  to  Tancred  and  Gismiinda,  vol,  II. 


214  DAMON   AND  PITHIAS. 


Farewel,  I  dare  not  be  seene  with  you. 
Here  entreth  Kyng  Dionisius,  Eubulus  the  Court- 
seller,  and  Gronno  the  Hangman. 
Dionuivs.  Gronno,  doo  my  commaundement :  strike 
of  Damons  irons  by  and  by. 
Then  bryng  hym  foorth,  I  my   selfe  will  see  him  exe- 
cuted presently. 
Gronno.  O  mightie  king,  your  commaundement  wyll 

I  doo  speedely. 
Dionisius.    Eubulus,   thou  hast  talked  in  vain,  for 
sure  he  shall  die. 
Shall  I  suffer  my  lyfe  to  stand  in  peryll  of  every  spie? 
Eubulus.  That  he  conspired  against  your  person,  his 
accuser  cannot  say. 
He  only  viewed  your  citie,  and  wyll  you  for  that  make 
him  away  ? 
Dionisius    What  he  would  have  done  the   gesse  is 
great:   he  minded  mee  to  hurt, 
That  came  so  s^yly,  to  serch  out  the  secret  estate  of  my 

courte. 
Shall  I  styll  lye  in  feare  ?  no,  no  :  I  wyll  cut  off  such 

impes  betime, 
Least  that  to  my  farther  daunger  too  hie  they  clime. 
Eubulus.  Yet  have  the   mightie   goddes   immortal! 
fame  assigned 
To  all  worldly  princes,  whiche  in  mercie  be  inchned. 
Dionisius.  Let  fame  talke  what  she   lyst,  so  I  may 

lyve  in  safetie. 
Eubulus.    The    onely   meane    to    that,   is,   to   use 

mercie. 
Dionisius.  A  milde  prince  the  people  despiseth. 
Eubulus.   A  cruell  kinge  the  people  hateth. 
Dionisius.  Let  them  hate  me,  so  they  feare  mee. 
Eubulus.  That  is  not  the  way  to  lyve  in  safetie. 
Dionisius.  My  sword  and  power  shall  purchase  my 

quietnesse. 
Eubulus.    That   is   sooner  procured   by  mercy  and 

gentlenesse. 
Dionisius.  Dionisius  ought  to  be  feared. 
Eubulus.  Better  for  him  to  be  wel  beloved. 


DAMON  AND  PITHIAS.  21; 


Dionisius.  Fortune  maketh  all  thinges  subject  to  my 

power. 
Eubulus.  Beleeve  her  not,  she  is  a  light  goddesse ; 

she  can  laugh  and  lowre. 
Dionisus.  A  kinges  prayse  standeth  in  the  reveng- 
ing of  his  enemie. 
Eubulus.  A  greater  prayse  to  winne  him  by  clemen- 

cie, 
Dionisius.    To    suffer  the  wicked  to   live   it   is  no 

mercie. 
Eubulus.    To   kill   the   innocent  it  is  great  cruel- 
tie. 
Dionisius.    Is   Damon  innocent  which    so   craftely 
underminded  Carisophus, 
To  understand  what  he  could  of  kinge  Dionisius? 
Which  survewed  the  haven,  and  eche  bulwarcke  in  the 

citie, 
Where  battrie  might  be  layde,  what  way  best  to  ap- 

proche?  shall  I 
Suffer  such  a  one  to  live  that  worketh   mee  such  dis- 

pite  ? 
No,  he  shall  die,  then  I  am  safe :  a  dead  dogge  can- 
not bite. 
Eubulus.  But  yet,  O  mightie  king*,  my  dutie  bind- 
eth  mee 
To  geve  such  counsell,  as  with  your  honour  may  best 

agree : 
The  strongest  pillers  of  princely  dignitie, 
I  finde  is"*^  justice  with  mercy  and  prudent  liberalitie  : 
The  one  judgeth  all  thinges  by  upright  equitie, 
The  other  rewardeth  the  worthy,  flying  eche  extremitie. 
As  to  spare  those  which  offend  maliciously, 
It  may  be  called  no  justice,  but  extrcaT.e  injurie  : 
So  upon  suspicion  of  cache  thinge  not  well  proved, 
To  put  to  death  presently  whom  envious  flattery  ac- 
cused, 

*  "  king'*  is  omitted  in  the  first  edition,  and  supplied  by  the 
second.     C. 

*•  is]  this,  1st  edit. 


216  DAMON   AND  ^.ITIIIAS. 


It  seemeth  of  tiranny  ;    and  upon  what  fickle  ground 

al  tirants  doo  stand, 
Athenesand  Lacedemon  can  teacheyou,  yf  it  be  rightly 

scande. 
And  not  only  these  citezens,  but  who  curiously  seekes 
The  whole  histories  of  all  the  world,  not  only  of  Ro- 

maines  and  Greekes, 
Shall  well  perceyve  of  all  tirauntes  the  ruinous  fall, 
Their  state  uncertaine,  beloved  of  none,  but  hated  of 

all. 
Of  mercifull  princes,  to  set  out  the  passyng  felycitie, 
I  neede  not :  ynoug h  of  that  even  these  dayes  do  tes- 

tifie. 
They  live  devoid  of  feare,  their  sleapes  are  sound,  they 

dreed  no  enemie, 
They  are  feared  and  loved  :    and  why  ?  they  rule  with 

justice  and  mercie, 
Extendyng  justice  to  such  as  wickedly  from  justice 

have  swarved, 
Mercie   unto   those   where  opinion  simplenesse  have 

mercie  deserved. 
Of  lybertie  nought  I  say,  but  only  this  thynge, 
Lybertie  upholdeth  the  state  of  a  kynge  : 
Whose  large  bountifulnesse  ought  to  fall  to  this  issue, 
To  rewarde  none  but  such  as  deserve  it  for  vertue. 
Whiche  mercifull  justice  if  you  would  folow,  and  pro- 
vident liberalytie; 
Neither  the  caterpillers  of  all  courtes  Et  fruges  consu- 

mere  nati, 
Parasites  with  wealth  puft  up,  should  not  looke   so 

hie  ; 
Nor  yet,  for  this  simple  fact,  poore  Damon  should  die. 
Dloiiisius,  With  payne  mine  eares  have  heard  this 
vayne  talke  of  mercie. 
I  tell  thee,  feare  and  terrour  defendeth  kynges  only: 
Tyll  he  be  gone  whorae  I  suspect,  how  shall  I  lyve 

quietly, 
Whose  memorie  with  chilling  horror  fils  my  beast  day 
and  night  violently  ? 


DAMON  AND  PITHJAS.  2l7 


My  dreadfuil  dreames  of  him  bereves  my  rest ;  on  bed 

Hie 
Shakyng  and  trembling,   as   one   ready  to  yelde  his 

throate  to  Damon's  sword. 
This  quakyng  dread  nothyng  but  Damon's  bloud  can 

stay: 
Better  he  die  then  I  to  be  tormented  with  feare  al- 

way. 
He  shall  die,  though  Eubulus  consent  not  thereto  : 
It  is  lawful  I    for  kinges,   as  they  list,  all  thynges  to 

doo. 
Here    Gronno    hringeth    in   Damon,    and    Pithias 
meeteth  him  by  the  way. 
Pithias.  Oh,  my  Damon  ! 
Damon.  Oh,  my  Pithias!  seying  death  must  parte 

us,  farewel  for  ever. 
Pithias.  Oh,  Damon,  oh,  my  sweete  friende  ! 
Snap.  Away  from  the  prysoner  !  what  a  prease  have 

we  here? 
Gronno.  As  you  commaunded,  O,  mighty  kinge,  we 

have  brought  Damon. 
Dionisius.  Then   go   to :    make  ready.     I  will  not 
stirre  out  of  this  place, 
Til  I  see  his  head  stroken  off  before  my  face. 

Gronno.  It  shall  be  done,  sir.     Because  your  eyes 
have  made  such  a  doo, 
I  wyl  knock  down  this  your  lantern,  and  shut  up  your 
shop-window  too. 
Damon.  O,  mightie  king,  where  as  no  truethmy  in- 
nocent lyfe  can  save, 
But  that  so  greedily  you  thirst"*'  my  giltlesse  bloud  to 

have, 
Albeit  (even   in  thought)   I   had  nof^  ought  against 

your  person  : 
Yet  now  I  plead  not  for  lyfe,  ne   wyll    I  crave  your 
pardon. 

*3  thirst]  thrust,  1st  edit. 

**  (even  in  thought)  I  had  not]  (even  for  thought)  for  I  had  not ; 
Both  Editions,    The  alterations  by  Mr.  Dodsley. 


218  DAMON  AND  PlTHlAS. 


But  seyng:  in  Greece,  my  countrey,  where  well  I  am 
knowne, 

I  have  worldly  thinges  fit  for  mine  aliance,  when  I  am 
gone, 

To   dispose   them  or   I  die    if   I  might  obtaine  lea- 
sure, 

I  would  account  it  (0  kyng)  for  a  passyng  great  plea- 
sure : 

Not  to  prolonge  my  lyfe  therby,  for  which  I  reken  not 
this, 

But  to  set  my  thynges  in  a  stay  :  and  surely  I  wyll  not 
misse, 

Upon  the  faith  which  all  gentylmen  ought  to  embrace, 

To    returne    agayne    at  your    lime    to    appoynte,  to 
yeeld  my  body  here  in  this  place. 

Graunt  me  (O  kinge)  such  time  to  dispatch  this  in- 
jurie, 

And  I  wyll  not  fayle  when  you  appoint,  even  here  my 
lyfe  to  pay  ''^ 
Dionisius.  A  pleasant  request !    as  though  I  could 
trust  him  absent, 

Whom  in  no  wise  I  can  not  trust  beinge  present. 

And  yet  though  I  sware  the  contrarie,  doo  that  I  re- 
quire, 

Geve  wee   a  pledge  for  thy  returne,  and  have  thine 
owne  desire. 

He  is  as  nere  now  as  he  was  before. 

Damon.  There  is  no  surer  nor  greater  pledge  then 

the  faith  of  a  gentleman. 
Dio7usius.  It  was  wont  to  be,  but  otherwise  now  the 
world  doth  stande ; 

Therefore  doo  as  I  say,  els  presently  yeeld  thy  necke 
to  the  sword. 

If  I  might  with  my  honour  I  would  recall  my  worde. 
Pithias.  Stand  to  your  worde,  O  kinge,  for  kinges 
ought  nothing  say, 

But  that  they  would  performe  in  perfect  deeds  alway. 

45  pay]  yeelde  speedily,  2d  edit. 


DAMON  AND  PITHIAS.  219 


A  pledge  you  did  require  when  Damon  his  sute  did 

meeve, 
For  which  with  heart  and  stretched  handes  most  hum- 
ble thankes  I  geve  : 
And  that  you  may  not  say  but  Damon  hath  a  frinde, 
That  loves  him  better  then  his  owne  life,  and  will  doo  to 

his  ende, 
Take  mee  O  mightie  king  my  lyfe  I  pawne^^  for  his: 
Strike  off  my  head,  if  Damon  hap  at  his  day  to  misse. 
Dionisius.   What  art  thou,  that  chargest  me  with  my 

worde  so  boldly  here  ? 
Piihias.   I  am  Pithias,  a  Greeke  borne,  which  holde 

Damon  my  friend  full  deare. 
Dionisius.  To  dere  perhaps  to  hazard  thy   life   for 

him  :   what'*'^  foiidnes  moveth  thee? 
Piihias.  No  fondiiesse  at  all,  but  perfect  amitie. 
Dionisius.  A  mad  kind  of  amitie  !  advise  thyself  well : 
if  Damon  fayle  at  his  day, 
Which  shal  be  justly  appointed,  w^ilt  thou  die  for  him, 
to  mee  his  lyfe  to  pay? 
Pithias.   Most  wyilyngly,  O  mightie  king:  if  Damon 

fayle  let  Piihias  die. 
Dionisius.  Thou   seemest  to  trust  his  wordes,  that 

pawnest  thy  lyfe  so  franckly. 
Pithias.  What  Damon  saith,   Pithias   beleveth   as- 
suredly. 
Dionisius.  Take  heede :  for  life  worldly  men  breake 

promise  in  many  thinges. 
Pithias.  Though  worldly  men  doo  so,  it  never  happes 

amongst  frindes. 
Dionisius.  What  callest  thou  friendes,  are  they  not 

men  ?  is  not  this  true  ? 
Pithias.  Men   they  be,  but  such   men  as  love  one 

another  onely  for  vertue. 
Dionisius.  For  what  vertue  doste  thou  love  this  spie, 

this  Damon  ? 
Pithias.  For  that  vertue  which  yet  to  you  is  unknowne. 

*^  I  pawne]  to  pawne,  2d  edit. 

^fondnesl  folly.     Thus  Spenser,  in  his  Sonnets, 
**  Fondness  it  were  for  any,  being  free, 
"  To  covet  fetters,  though  they  golden  be." 


220  DAMON  AND  PITHIAS. 


Dionisius,  Eubulus,  what  shall  I  doo  ?  I  would  dis~ 
patch  this  Damon  fayne, 
But  this  foolish  felow  so  chargeth  mee,  that  I  may  not 
call  back  my  worde  againe. 
Eubulus.  The  reverent  majestie   of  a   king    stands 
chieflye  in  keeping  his  promise. 
What  you  have  sayde  this  whole  court  beareth  wit- 

nesse. 
Save  your  honour  what  so  ever  you  doo. 

Dionisius.  For  saveing  mine  honour,  I  must  forbeare 
my  wyll  :  go  to. 
Pithias,  seeing  thou  tookest  me  at  my  word,  take  Da- 
mon to  thee : 
For  two  monthes  he  is  thine  :  unbinde  him,  I  set  him 

free; 
Which  time  once  expired,  yf  he  appeare  not  the  next 

day  by  noone, 
Without  further  delay  thou  shalt  lose  thy  lyfe,  and  that 

full  sGone. 
Whether  he  die  by  the  way,  or  lie  sick  in  his  bead, 
If  he  retourne  not  then,  thou  shalt  either  hange  or  lose 
thy  head. 
Pithias^  For  this,  O  mightie  kinge,  I  yeld  immortall 

thankcs.     O  joy  full  day ! 
Dionisius.  Gronno,  take  him  to  thee  :  bind  him,  see 
him  kept  in  safetie  : 
If  he  escape,  assure  thyselfe  for  him  thou  shalt  die. 
Eubulus,  let  us  departe,  to  talke  of  this  straunge  thinge 
within. 
Eubulus.  I  folowe.  [Exeunt, 

Gronno.  Damon,  thou  servest  the  Gods  well  to  day, 
be  thou  of  comfort. 
As  for  you,  sir,  I  thinke  you  will  be  hanged  in  sporte. 
You  heard  what  the  king  sayde;  I  must  kepe   you 

safely : 
By  cocke,  so  I  wyll,  you  shall  rather  hange  then  I. 
Come  on  your  way. 

Pithias.  My  Damon,  farewel;   the  Gods  have  thee 

in  kepeing. 
Damon.  Oh,  my  Pithias,  my  pleadge,  farewell;  I 
parte  from  thee  weeping.  ^ 


DAMON   AND  PITIIIAS.  221 


But  joyfull  at  my  day  appoynted  I  wyll  retourne  agayne, 
When  I  wyll  deliver  thee  from  all  trouble  and  paine. 
Stephano  wyll  I  leave  behinde  me  to  wayte  upon  thee 

in  prison  alone, 
And  I,  whom  fortune  hath  reserved  to  this  miserie,  wyll 

walke  home. 
Ah,  my  Pithias,  my  pleadge,  my  life,  my  friend,  farewel. 
Pithias.  Farewel,  my  Damon. 

Damon.  Loth  I    am   to   departe.     Sith    sobbes  my 
trembling  tounge  doth  stay, 
Oh,  musicke,  sound  my  doleful!  playntes  when  I  am 
gone  my  way.  \^Exit  Damon. 

Gronno.  I  am  glad  lie  is  gone,  I  had  almost  wept  to. 
Come,  Pithias, 
So  God  help  me,  I  am  sory  for  thy  foolish  case. 
Wilt  thou  venter  thy  life  for  a  man  so  fondly  ? 

Pithias.  It  is  no  venter  :  my  friende  is  just,  for  whom 

I  desire  to  die. 
Gronno,  Here  is  a  mad  man !   I   tell  thee,  I  have  a 
wyfe  whom  I  love  well, 
And  if  iche  would  die  for  her,  chould  ich  weare  in  hell. 
Wyltthou  doo  more  for  a  man  then  I  woulde  for  a  woman? 
Pithias,  Yea,  that  I  wyll. 

Gronno.  Then   come  on   your   wayes,  you  must  to 
prison  haste. 
I  fcare  you  wyll  repent  this  folly  at  laste. 

Pithias.  That  shalt  thou  never  see.    But  oh,  musick, 
as  my  Damon  requested  thee, 
Sounde  out  thy  dolefull  tunes  in  this  time  of  calamitie. 

[Exeunt. 
Here  the  regalles  play  a  mourning  songe,  and  Damon 
commeth  in  in  mariners  apparel  and  Stephano  tvith 
him, 

Damon.   Weepe   no   more,    Stephano,    this    is   but 
destenie ; 
Had  not  this  hapt,  yet  I  know  I  am  borne  to  die : 
Where,  or  in  what  place,  the  Gods  know  alone, 
To  whose  judgment  myselfe  I  commit.    Therefore  leave 

of  thy  mone, 
And  wayte  upon  Pithias  in  pryson  till  I  retourne  agayne, 
In  whom  my  joy,  my  care,  and  lyfe,  doth  only  remayne. 


222  DAMON  AND  PITIIIAS* 


Stephano.  O,  my  deare  master,  let  me  go  with  you  ; 

for  my  poore  com  panic 
Shal  be  some  small  comfort  in  this  time  of  miserie. 
Damon.  Oh,  Stephano,  hast  thou  ben  so  longe  with 

me, 
And  yet  doest  not  know  the  force  of  true  amitie? 
I  tel  thee  once  agayne,  my  friend  and  I  are  but  one, 
Waite  upon  Pithias,  and  thinke  thou  art  with  Damon. 
Whereof  I  may  not  now  discourse,  the  time  passeth 

away; 
The  sooner  I  am  gone,  the  shorter  shall  be  my  journay: 
Therfore  farevvel,  Stephano,  commend  me  to  my  friende 

Pithias, 
Whom  I  trust  to  deliver  in  time  out  of  this  wofull  case. 
Stephano.  Farewel,   my   deare   master,    since   your 

pleasure  is  so. 
Oh,  cruell  happe !  oh,  poore  Stephano! 

0  cursed  Carisophus,  that  first  moved  this  tragidie! — 
But  what  a  noyes  is  this?  is  all  well  within  trow  yee? 

1  feare  all  be  not  well  within,  I  wyll  go  see.— 

Come  out  you  wesell :  are  you  seekinge  egs  in  Damon's 

cheste  ? 
Come  out,  I  say,  wylt  thou  be  packing?  by  cocke  you 
weare  best. 
Carisophus.  How  durst  thou,  villaine,  to  lay  handes 

on  me? 
Stephano.  Out,  sir  knave,  or  I  wyll  sende  yee. 
Art  thou  not  content  to  accuse  Damon  wrongfully, 
But  wilt  thou  robbe  him  also,  and  that  openly? 

Carisophus.  The  kinge  gave  mee  the  spoyle :  to  take 

myne  owne  wilt  thou  let  me^'^  ? 
Stephano.  Thine  owne,  villaine  !  where  is  thine  au- 
thority? 
Carisophus.  I   am  authoritie  of  myselfe  ;  dost  thou 

n(  t  kncAv  ? 
Stephano    Byr  ladie,  that  is  somewhat ;  but  have  you 

no  more  lo  show  ' 
Carisophus.  What  if  I  have  not? 
Stephano.  Then  for  an  earnest  penie  take  this  blow. 

*8  let  me]   hinder  me. 


DAMON  AND  PITHIAS.  223 


I  shall  bumbast  you,  you  mocking  knave;  schil  put 
pro  in  my  purse  for  this  time. 
Carisophus   Jacke,  give  me  my  sword  and  targat. 
Jacke.  I  cannot  com  to  you,  maister,  this  knave  doth 

me  let.— Hold,  maister. 
Stephano.  Away,   Jackanapes,   els   I   wyll  colpheg 
you  ^^  by  and  by  : 
Ye  slave,  I  wyll  have  my  penyworthes  of  thee  therefore 

if  I  die. 
Aboute,  villayne. 

Carisophus.  O,  citezens,  helpe  to  defend  me. 
Stephano    Nay,  they  wyll  rather  helpe  tohange  thee. 
Carisophus.  Good  felow,  let  us  reason  of  the  matter 

quietly  :  beat  me  no  more. 
Stephano.  Of  this  condition  I  wyll  stay,  if  thou  swere 
as  thou  art  an  honest  man. 
Thou  wylt  say  nothyng  to  the  kinge  of  this  when  I  am 
gonne. 
Carisophus.  I  wyll  say  nothyng,  here  is  my  hand,  as 

I  am  an  honest  man. 
Stephano.  Then  say  on  thy  minde :  I  have  taken  a 
wise  othe  on  him,  have  I  not  trow  ye  ? 
To  trust  such  a  false  knave  upon  his  honestie  ? 
As  he  is  an  honest  man  (quoth  you?)  he  may  bewray 

all  to  the  kinge, 
And  breke  his  oth  for  this  never  a  whit — But,  my  fra- 

nion  *°,  I  tell  you  this  one  thing : 
If  you  disclose  this,  I  wyll  devise  such  a  way, 
That  whilst  thou  livest  thou  shalt  remember  this  day. 
Carisophus.  You  neede  not  devise  for  that,  for  this 
day  is  printed  in  ray  memory, 
I  warrant  you,  I  shall  remember  this  beating  till  I  die  : 

<9  colpheg  you]    I  believe  we  should  read,  colaphize,  i.  e.  box  or 
buffet.     Colaphiser  Fr.     See  Cotgrave's  Diet.     S. 

60  But  my  franion]  i.  e.  loose  companion.    So  Spenser : 

Might  not  be  found  a  ra,nker  franion. 
Again, 

A  f?dre  franion  fit  for  such  a  pheere.     S. 
Again,  in  The  First  Part  of  King  Edward  IV.  Sign.  C.  5  :  "  Hees 
"  a  franke  franion,  a  merrie  companion,  and  loves  a  wench  well." 


224  DAMON  AND  TITHIAS. 


But  seeing  of  courtesie  you  have  granted  that  we  should 

talke  quietly, 
Methinkes,  in  calling  mee  knave,  you  doo  me  muche 
injurie. 
Stephaiio.  Why  so,  I  pray  thee  hartely  ? 
Carisophus.  Because  I  am  the  kinges  man :   keepes 

the  kinge  any  knaves  ? 
Stephano.  He  should  not;  but  what  he  doth,  it  is 
evident  by  thee. 
And  as  farre  as  I  can  learne  or  understand. 
There  is   none  better  able  to  keepe  knaves  in  all  the 
land. 
Carisophus.  Oh,  sir,  I  am  a  courtier :  when  courtiers 
shall  heare  tell. 
How  you  have  used  me,  they  will  not  take  it  well. 
Stephano,  Nay,   all   right  courtiers   will   kenne  me 
thanke*' ;  and  wot  you  why  ? 
Because  I  handled  a  counterfait  courtier  in  his  kinde  so 

finely. 
What,  syr  ?  all  are  not  courtiers  that  have  a  counterfait 

show; 
In  a  trope  of  honest  men,  some  knaves  may  stand,  ye 

know. 
Such  as  by  stelth  creep  in  under  the  colour  of  honestie, 
Which  sorte  under  that  cloke  doo  all  kinde  of  villanie : 
A  right  courtier  is  vertuous,  gentill,  and  full  of  urbanitie. 
Hurting  no  man,  good  to  all,  devoid  of  villanie : 
But  suche  as  thou  art,  fountaines  of  squirilitie,  and 

vayne  delightes; 
Though  you  hange  by  the  courtes,  vou  are  but  flatting 

parasites ; 
As  well  deserving  the  right  name  of  courtesie, 
As  the  coward  knight  the  true  praise  of  chevalrie. 
I  could  say  more,  but  I  wyll  not,  for  that  I  am  your 

well  wilier. 
In  faith,  Carisophus,  you  are  no  courtier,  but  a  cater- 
piller. 


*'  kenne  me  tharilie]    See  Note  34  to  Gammer  Gurion's  Needle, 
vol.  II. 


D.AMON   AND   PTTHIAS.  225 


A  sicophant,  a  parasite,  a  flatterer,  and  a  knave. 
Whether  I  wyll  or  no,  these  names  you  must  have : 
How  well  you  deserve  this,  by  your  deedes  it  is  knowne, 
For  that  so  unjustly  thou  hast  accused  poore  Damon, 
Whose  wofull  case  the  gods  helpe  alone. 

Carisophus.  Syr,  are  you  his  servaunt,  that  you  pitie 

his  case  so? 
Stephano.  No  bum  troth,   good   man  Grumbe,    his 
name  is  Stephano : 
I  am  called  Onaphets,  if  needs  you  wyll  know. 
The  knave  beginneth  to  sift  mee,  but  I  turne  my  name 

in  and  out, 
Cretiso  cum  Cre.iensc  5-,  to  make  him  a  loute. 

Carisophus.   What  mumble  you  with  your  selfe,  mas- 
ter Onaphets? 
Stephano.  I  am  reckoning  with  my  selfe  how  I  may 

pay  my  debtes. 
Carisophus.  You  have  paide  me  more  then  you  did 

owe  me. 
Stephano.  Nay,  upon  a  farther  reckoning,  I  wyll  pay 
you  more,  if  I  know 
Either  you  talke  of  that  is  done,  or  by  your  sicophan- 

ticall  envye. 
You  pricke  forth  Dionisius  the  sooner,  that  Damon  may 

die : 
I  wyll  so  pay  thee,  that  thy  bones  shall  rattell  ui  thy 

skinne. 
Remember  what  I  have  sayde;  Onaphets  is  my  name. 

[Exit. 
Carisophus.  The  sturdie  knave  is  gone :  the  devyll 
him  take. 
He  hath  made  my  head,  shoulders,  armes,  sides,  and 

all  to  ake. 
Thou  horson  villaine  boy,   why  didst  thou   waite  no 

better  ? 
As  he  payde  mee,  so  wyll  I  not  die  thy  debter. 

"  Cretiso  cum  Cretense]  Read  Kprili^w,  Vide  P>asm.  Chiliad. 
The  Cretans  were  famous  for  double-dealing.  Cretizare,  however,  is 
a  word  employ'd  by  lexicographers,  instead  of  mentiri.    S. 

VOT..  I.  Q 


226  DAMON  AND  PITHIAS. 


Jacke,  Mayster,  why  doo  you  fight  with  me  ?  I  am 
not  your  match,  you  see  : 
Your  durst  not  fight  with  him  that  is  gone,  and  wyll 
you  wreke  your  anger  on  mee? 
Carisophiis.  ThoU  villaine,  by  thee  I  have  lost  mine 
honour, 
Beaten  with  a  codgell  hke  a  slave,  a  vacaboun,  or  a 

lasie  lubber, 
And  not  geven  one  blow  agayne.     Hast  thou  handled 
me  well  ? 
Jacke.  Maister   I   handled  you  not,   but   who   did 

handle  you  very  handsomly  you  can  tell. 
Carisophus,  Handsomly  !  thou  crake  rope.* 
Jacke.  Yea,  sir,  very  handsomily :  I  hold  you  a  grote, 
He  handled  you  so  handsomly,  that  he  left  not  one 
mote  in  your  cote. 
Carisophus.  O  I  had  firckt  him  trimly,  thou  villaine, 

if  thou  hadst  geven  mee  my  sword. 
Jacke.  It  is  better  as  it  is,  maister,  beleve  me  at  a 
worde. 
If  he  had  scene  your  weapon,  he  would  have  ben  fierser,. 
And  so  perhaps  beate  you  worse,  I  speake  it  with  my 

harte. 
You  were  never  at  the  dealing  of  fence  blowes,  but  you 

had  foure  away  for  your  part. 
It  is  but  your  lucke,  you  are  man  good  enough; 
But  the  wealche  Onaphets  was  a  vengeance  knave,  and 

rough. 
Maister,  you   were  best  goe  home  and  rest  in  your 

bedde, 
Meethinkes   your    cappe    waxeth   to    little    for    your 
heade. 
Carisophus.  What !   doth  my  head  swell  ? 

*  Crack-rope  was  a  common  term  of  contempt  in  old  plays. 
"  You  codshed,  you  cracke-rope,  you  chattering  pye." 

Apius  and  Virginia,  1575.  Sign.  B. 
Again  in  that  very  rare  play.  The  Two  Italian  Gentlemen : 

"  Then  let  him  be  led  through  every  streete  in  the  town, 
"  That  every  crachrope  may  fling  rotten  egs  at  the  clown." 

C. 


DAMON  AND  PITIIIAS.  227 


Jacke,  Yea,  as  bigge  as  a  codshed,  and  bleades  too. 
Carisophus.  I  am  ashamed  to  show  my  face  with  this 

hew. 
Jacke.  No  shame  at  all ;  men  have  bin  beaten  farre 

better  then  you. 
Carisophus.   I  muste  go    to  the  chirurgian's ;  what 

shal  I  say  when  I  am  a  dressyng?" 
Jacke.  You  may   say   truly  you  met  with  a  knave's 

blessing.  [Exeunt. 

Here  entreth  Aristippus. 
Aristippus.  By  mine  owne  experience  I  prove  true 

that  many  men  tell, 
To  live  in  courte  not  beloved,  better  be  in  hell : 
What  criyng  out,  what  cursyng  is  there  within  of  Cari- 
sophus, 
Because  he  accused  Damon  to  kinge  Dionisius : 
Even  now  he  came  whining  and  crying  into  the  courte 

for  the  nonce, 
Shewinge   that  one  Onaphets  had  broke  his  knave's 

sconce. 
Which   straunge   name   when   they  heard  every  man 

laught  hartely. 
And  I  by  myselfe  scan'd  his  name  secretly ; 
For  well  I  knewe  it  was  some  mad-heded  chylde 
That  invented  this  name,  that  the  log  headed  knave 

might  be  begilde. 
In  tossing  it  often  with  myselfe  two  and  fro, 
I  found  out  that  Onaphets  backward,  spelled  Stephano. 
I  smiled  in  my  sieve,  how  to  see  by  tournyng  his  name 

he  drest  him, 
And  how  for  Damon  his  master's  sake,  with  a  wodden 

cougell  he  blest  him. 
None  pittied   the   knave,  no  man  nor  woman,  but  al 

laught  him  to  scorne. 
To  be  thus  hated  of  all,  better  unborne  : 
Farre  better  Aristippus  hath  provided,  I  trowe; 
For  in  all  the  courte  I  am  beloved  both  of  hie  andlowe. 
I  offende  none,  in  so  muche  that  wemen  singe  this  to 

my  great  prayse, 
Omnis  Aristippum  decuit  color,  et  locus  et  res. 


228  DAMON    AND    PITHIAS, 


But  in  all  this  joylytie  one  thinge  maseth  me, 
The  straungest  thinge  that  ever  was  harde  or  knowne, 
Is  now  happened  in  this  court,  by  that  Damon 
Whom  Carisophus  accused ;  Damon  is  now  at  libertie. 
For  whose  return  Pithias  his  friend  lieth  in  prison,  alas, 

in  great  jeopardy. 
To-morow  is    the  day,  which  day  by  noone  if  Damon 

returne  not,  ernestly 
The  kinge  hath  sworne  that  Pithias  should  die; 
Wherof  Pithias  hath  intelligence  very  secretly, 
Wishing  that  Damon  may  not  returne  tyll  he  have  payde 
His  lyfe  for  his  friend.     Hath  it  ben  heare  to  fore  ever 

sayde. 
That  any  man  for  his  friend  would  die  so  willyngly  ? 
O,  noble  friendship!  O  perfect  amitie  ! 
Thy  force  is  heare  seene,  and  that  very  perfectlie. 
The  king  himselfe  museth  heare  at,  yet  is  he  farre  out 

of  square 
That  he  triisteth  none  to  come  nere  him,  not  his  €wne 

dough ters  will  he  have 
Unsercht   to  enter   his  chamber,  which  he  hath  made 

barbars  his  beard  to  shave. 
Not  with  knife  or  rasour,  for  all  edge-tooles  hee  feares, 
But   with   bote   burning    nutshales  they  senge  of  his 

heares. 
Was  there  ever  man  that  lived  in  such  miserye? 
Well,  I  wyll  go  in  with  a  heavy e  and  pensive  hart  too. 
To  think  how  Pithias,  this  poore  gentleman,  to-morow 

shall  die.  [Exit, 

Here  entreth  Jacke  and  Wyll. 
Jacks.  Wyll,    by  mine  honesty,  I  wyll  marre  your 

moncke's  face,  if  you  so  fondly  prate. 
Wyll.  Jacke,   by  my  troth,  seeing  you  are  without 

the  courte  gate, 
If  you  play  Jacke  napes,   in  mocking  my  master,  and 

dispising  my  face, 
Even  here  with  a  pantacle^'  I  wyll  you  disgrace; 

**  Even  here  icith  a  pantacle]     I  suppose  he  means  to  say  a  pan- 
tofie,  i.  e.  a  slipper.     Perhaps  he  begins  his  attack  with  a  kick.     S. 
The  2d  edition  reads, 


DAMON    AND   PlTHIAS.  229 


And  though  you  have  a  farre  better  face  then  I, 
Yet  who  is  better  man  of  us  two  these  fistes  shall  trie, 
Unlesse  you  leave  your  taunting. 

Jacke.  Thou  began'st  first ;  didst  thou  not  say  even 

nowe, 
That  Carisophus,  my  master,  was  no  man  but  a  cowe. 
In  takinge  so  many  blowes,  and  geve  ^*  never  a  blow 

agayn  ? 
ff'ylL  I  sayde  so  in  deede,  he  is  but  a  tame  ruffian. 
That  can  swere  by  his  flaske  and  twiche-box=*,  and 

God's  precious  lady, 
And  yet  will  be  beaten  with  a  faggot-stick. 
These  barking  whelpes  were  never  good  biters, 
Ne  yet  great  crakers  were  ever  great  fighters : 
But   seeinge    you  eg  mee    so  much,  I  wyll  somewhat 

moreresight; 
I  say,  Carisophus  thy  master  is  a  flattring  parisite  ; 
Gleniug  away   the  sweet  from  the  worthy   in  al   the 

courte. 
What  tragi'die  hath  he  moved  of  late  ?  the  devell  take 

him,  he  doth  much  hurt. 
Jacke.   I  pray  you,  what  is  Aristippus  thy  master,  is 

not  he  a  parisite  to, 
That  with  scoffing  and  jesting  in  the  court  makes  so 

much  a  doo? 
Ifyll.  He  is   no  parisite,  but  a  pleasant  gentleman 

full  of  curtesie. 
Thy  master  is  a  churlish  loute,  the  heyre  of  a  doung- 

fork  ;  as  voyde  of  honestie 
As  thou  art  of  honour. 

"  Even  heere  with  z  /aire  pantacle  I  will  you  disgrace." 
an  epithet  not  found  in  the  oldest  copy,  doxd  hardly  consistent  with 
the  supposition  that  pantacle  medins  pantojie.     C. 

5*  o-ere]  gave,  1st  edit. 

*s  his  fiaske  and  Unche-hoi]  INIore  properly  toueh-box.  While 
match-locks,  instead  of  fire-locks,  to  guns  were  used  ;  the  touch-box, 
at  which  the  match  was  lighted,  was  part  of  the  accoutrement  of  a 
soldier. 

"  When  she  his  flask  and  touchrbox  set  on  fire." 
line  of  an  Author,  whose  name  I  cannot  at  this  tima  recollect.     S. 


230  DAMON  AND   PITHIAS. 


Jacke,  Nay,  yf  you  wyll  needes  be  prating  of  my 
master  styll, 
In  faith  I  must  coole  you  my  frinde,  dapper  Wyll: 
Take  this  at  the  beginning. 

Wyll.  Prayse  well  your  winning,  my  pantacle  is  as 

readie  as  yours. 
Jacke.  By  the  masse  I  wyll  boxe  you. 
fVyll.  By  cocke,  I  wyll  foxe  you. 
Jacke.  Wyll,  was  I  with  you  ? 
ffyll.  Jacke,  did  I  flye? 

Jacke.  Alas,  pretie  cockerell,  you  are  to  weake; 
Wyll.  In   faith,   dutting  DuttrelP^,  you   wyll   crye 
creake. 

Here  entreth  Snap. 
Snap.  Away,  you  cracke  ropes,  are  you  fighting  at 
the  courte-gate? 
And  I  take  you  heare  agayne,  I  will  swindge  you  both: 
what!  [Exit. 

Jacke.    I   beshrew   Snap   the   tipstaffe,   that  great 
knaves  hart,  that  hether  did  come. 
Had  he  not  ben,  you  had  cryed  ere  this,  Victus,  victttf 

mctum  : 
But  seing  wee  have  breathed  ourselves,  if  ye  list, 
Let  us  agree  like  friends,  and  shake  eche  other  by  the 
fist. 
Wyll,  Content  am  I,  for  1  am  not  malicious  ;  but  on 
this  condition, 
That  you  talke  no  more  so  brode  of  my  master^as  here 

you  have  done. 
But  who  have   wee   heere  ?  is    Cohex  epi "  comming 
yonder  ? 
Jacke,  Wyll,  let  us  slipp  aside  and  vewe  him  well. 

^'^  DuUreW]  A  Dottrel  is  a  silly  kind  of  bird  whicli  imitates  the 
actions  of  the  fowler,  till  at  last  he  is  taken.  So,  in  Butler's  Cha- 
racter of  a  Fantastic.  Remains,  vol.  II.  p.  182.  "  He  alters  his 
"  gate  with  the  times,  and  has  not  a  motion  of  his  body  that  (like  a 
"  Dottrel)  he  does  not  borrow  from  somebody  else." 

See  also  Note  8  to  The  Old  Couple,  vol.  X. 

'7  Cobex  epi.]  These  I  suppose  to  be  words  corrupted  by  the 
ignorance  of  the  transcriber.     S. 


DAMON   AND   PITHIAS.  231 


Here  enireth  Grim  me  the  Colier,  whistling. 
Orimme.  What  devell !  iche  weene    the  porters  are 
drunke,  wil  they  not  dup  the  gate  to-day  ? 
Take  in  coles  for  the  king's  owne  mouth :  wyll  no  body 

stur,  I  say? 
Ich  might  have  layne  tway  howers  longer  in  my  bedde, 
Cha  taried  so  longe  here,  that  my  teeth  chatter  in  my 
heade, 
Jacke.  Wyll,  after  our  fallinge  out  wilt  thou  laugh 

merily  ? 
JVyll.  I  mary,  Jacke,  I  pray  thee  hartely. 
Jacke.  Then  folow  me,  and  hemme  in  a  worde  now 
and  then. 
What  braulynge  knave  is  there  at  the  courte-gate  so 
early  ? 
IVyll.  It  is  some  brainesicke  villaine,  I  durst  lay  a 

pennie. 
Jacke,  Was  it  you  *^,  sir,  that  cryed  so  lowde  I  trow, 
And  bid  us  take  in  coles  for  the  kinges   mouth  even 
now  ? 
Grlmme.  'Twas  I,  indeede. 

Jacke.  Why,  sir,  how  dare  you   speake  such  petie 
treason  ? 
Doth  the  king  eate  coles  at  any  season  ? 

Grimme.  Heere  is  a  gaye  Avorld !  boyes  now  settes 
olde  men  to  scoole. 
I  sayde  wel  enough :  what,  Jack  sawce,  thinkst  cham 

a  foole  ? 
At  bakehouse,  buttrie  hatch,  kitchen,  and  seller, 
Doo  *^  they  not  say  for  the  kinges  mouth  ? 
Wyll.  What  then,  goodman  collar? 
Grimme.  What  then  !  seing  without  coles  thei  cannot 
finely  dresse  the  kinges  meat. 
May  I  not  say  take  in  coles  for  the   kinges   mouth, 
though  coles  he  do  not  eate? 
Jacke.  James !  Christe  !  came  ever  from  a  colier  an 
aunswer  so  trimme  ? 
You  are  learned,  are  you  not,  father  Grimme? 

*8  Was  it  you]  It  was  you,  Ist  edit. 
«9  Doo]  Doth,  2d  edit. 


232  DAMON   AND  PITHIAS. 


Grimme.  Grimme   is   my  name   indeed,  cham   not 
learned,  and  yet  the  king's  colier  : 
This  vortie  winter  cha  bin  to  the  king  a  serviter, 
Though  I  be  not  learned,  yet  cha  mother  witte  enough 
whole  and  some. 
WylL  So  it  seemes,  you  have  so  much  mother  wit, 

that  you  lacke  your  father's  wisdome. 
Grimme.  Masse,  cham  well  beset,  here's  a  trimme 
cast  of  Murlons  ^°. 
What  be  you,  my  pretie  cockerels,  that  aske  me  these 
questions? 
Jacke.  Good  faith,  maister  Grimme®',  if  such  Mar- 
lines on  your  pouch  may  light, 
Thei  are  so  quick  of  winge,  that  quickly  they  can  carie 

it  out  of  your  sight; 
And  though  we  are  cockerels  now,  we  shall  have  spurs 

one  day, 
And  shall  be  able  perhaps  to  make  you  a  capon  : 
But  to  tell  you  the  trouth,  we  are   the  porter's  men, 

which  early  and  late 
Wayte  on  such  gentlemen  as  you,  to  open  the  court  gate. 
Grimme.  Are  ye  servants  then? 
WylL  Yea,  sir ;  are  we  not  pretie  men  ? 
Grimme.  Pretie   men   (quoth   you)?    nay,   you    are 
stronge  men,  els  you  coulde   not  beare  these 
britches. 
WylL  Are  these  such  *  great  hose  ?  in  faith,  good- 
man  colier,  you  see  with  your  nose  : 

^°  a  trimme  cast  of  Mvrhms]  i.  e.  a  cast  of  that  species  of  hawks 
that  were  called  Merlins.     S. 

He  calls  then.  Murlons  on  account  of  tlieir  size.  Merlins  were 
the  smallest  species  of  hawks.  Turberville  says,  "  These  merlyns 
"  are  very  much  like  tlie  haygart  falcon  in  plume,  in  seare  of  the 
"  foote,  in  beake  and  talons.  So  as  there  seemeth  to  be  no  oddes 
"  or  difterence  at  al  betwixt  them  save  only  in  the  bignesse,  for  she 
"  hath  like  demeanure,  like  plume,  and  very  like  conditions  to  the 
"  falcon,  and  in  hir  kind  is  of  like  courage,  and  therefore  must  be 
"  kept  as  choycely  and  as  daintily  as  the  falcon."  The  meWm  was 
chiefly  used  to  fly  at  small  birds  ;  and  Latham  says,  it  was  particu- 
larly appropriated  to  the  service  of  ladies. 

^'  maister  Grimme]  father  Grimme,  2d  edit. 

*  "  Such,"  adopted  into  the  original  text  from  the  2d  edit.     C. 


DAMON  AND  PITHIAS.  233 

By  myne  honestie,  I  have  but  one  lining  in  one  hose, 
but  seven  els  of  roug. 
Grimmer.  This   is   but   a   little,  yet  it  makes  thee 

seeme  a  great  bugge. 
Jacke,  How  say  you,  goodman  colier,  can  you  finde 

any  fault  here^^? 
Grimme.  Nay,  you  should  finde  faught,  mary  here's 
trim  geare  ! 
Alas,  little  knave,  dost   not  sweat?  thou  goest  with 

great  payne. 
These   are   no   hose,  but  water   bougets,  I  tell  thee 

playne ; 
Good  for  none  but  suche  as  have  no  buttockes. 
Dyd  you  ever  see  two  suche  little  Robin  ruddockes  ^ 
So  laden  with  breeches  ?  chill    say  no   more   leste   I 

offende. 
Who  invented  these  monsters  "■*  first,  did  it  to  a  gostly 

ende. 
To  have  a  male  readie  to  put  in  other  folkes  stufFe, 
Wee  see  this  evident  by  dayly  proofFe. 
One  preached  of  late  not  farre  hence,  in  no  pulpet,  but 

in  a  wayne  carte, 
That  spake  enough  of  this  ;  but  for  my  parte, 
Chil  say  no  more:  your  owne  necessitie 
In  the  end  wyll  force  you  to  finde  some  remedy. 

Jacke.  Wyl  ^\  holde  this  railinge  knave  with  a  talke 
when  I  am  gone  : 
I  wyll  fetch  him  his  filling  ale  for  his  good  sermone. 
Wyll.  Goe  thy  way,  father  Grimme,  gayly  well  you 
doo  say, 
It  is  but  young  mens  folly,  that  liste  to  playe, 

^  can  you  Jiruk  any  fault  here?]  what  fault  can  you  see  heere  ? 
2d  edit. 

^3  Rohin  niddockes,']  i.  e.  Robin  red  breasts.  Sbakspeare  uses 
ruddock  for  red  breast  in  Cymheline.     S. 

Again,  Nash's  Lenten  Stuff,  1599  :  "  —  he  eft  soons  defined 
"  unto  me,  that  the  red  herring  was  this  old  tickle  cob,  or  magister 
"  fac  totum,  that  brought  in  the  red  ruddocks,  and  the  gnimmel 
"  seed  as  thick  as  oatmeal,  and  made  Yarmouth  for  Argent  to  put 
"  down  the  city  of  Argentine." 

64  monsters]  hose  at,  2d  edit. 

6b  Wyl]  Well,  1st  edit. 


234  DAMON  AND  PITHIAS, 


And  maske  a  whyle  in  the  net  of  their  owne  devise  ; 
When  they  come  to  your  age  they  wyll  be  wyse. 

Grimme,  Bum  troth,  but  few  such  roysters  come  to 
my  yeares  at  this  day; 
They  be  cut  off  betimes,  or  they  have  gone  halfe  their 

journey  : 
I  wyll  not  tell  why  :  let  them  gesse  that  can,  I  meane 

somewhat  thereby. 
Enter  Jac ke  with  a  pot  of  wyne,  and  a  cup  to  drinke  on. 
Jacke.  Father  Gnmme,  because  you  are  starring  so 
early, 
I  have  brought  you  a  bowle  of  wyne  to  make  you  mery. 
Grimme.   Wyne,  mary !  this  is  welcome  to  colliers, 
chyl  swapt  off  by  and  by  : 
Chwas  sturringe  so  early  that  my  very  soule  is  drye. 
Jacke.    This   is    stoutly  done:    wyll    you    have   it 

warmed,  father  Grimme  ? 
Grimme,  No,  it  is  warme  enough  ;  it  is  very  lousious 
and  trimme. 
'Tis  musselden  ^^  ich  weene ;  of  fellowship  let  me  have 

another  spurt, 
Ich  can  drink  as  easly  now,  as  if  I  sate  in  my  shurte. 
Jacke.  By  cocke,  and  you  shall  have  it ;  but  I  wyll 
beginne,  and  that  anone, 
Je  bois  a  vous  mon  compagnon^"^. 

Grimme.  J'ai  vous  pleig^,  petit  Zawne  ^8. 

Jacke.  Can  you  speake   French  ?  here  is  a  trimme 

colier,  by  this  day  ! 
Grimme.  What  man  !  ich  learned  this  when  ich  was 
a  souldier; 


^  'Tis  rmisselden.]     An  intended  mistake  ioi  muscadine.    S. 

*'  Je  hois  a  vous  mon  compagnori]  Jebit  avow  mon  companion. 
Both  4tos.    S. 

^8  J'ai  vous  pleige  petit  2nwne^  Ihar  vow  pleadge,  pety  Zawne, 
Both  4tos.     I  know  not  what  is  meant  by  Zawne. 

Perhaps  these  lines  are  a  translation  of  some  song  or"catch,  dia- 
logue wise,  between  Robin  Hood  and  Little  John. 
L.  J.    1  drink  to  you,  my  companion. 
R.  H.     And  I  have  pledged  you,  Little  John. 

Zawne,  must  then  be  received  as  a  mispronunciation  or  corrup- 
tion, as  the  reader  pleases,  of  John,    S. 


DAMON   AND  PITHIAS.  235 


When  ich  was  a  lusty  fellow,  and  could  yarke  a  whip 

trimly, 
Better  then  these  boy  coliers,  that  come  to  the  courre 

daily  : 
When  there  were  ^^  not  so  many  captious  fellowes  as 

now, 
That  would  toruppe  men  for  every  trifell,  I  wot  not 

how : 
As  there  was  one  Damon,  not  longe  since  taken  for  a 

spie; 
How  justly  I  know  not,  but  he  was  condemned  to  die. 
JVyll.  This  wipe  hath  warmed  him,  this  comes  well 

to  passe. 
We  shall  know  all  now,  for  in  Tlno  Veritas. 
Father  Grimme,  who   accused  this   Damon   to  kinge 

Dionisius  ? 
Grimme.  A  vengeaunce  take  him !  'twas  a  gentleman, 

one  maister  Crowsphus. 
Wyll.  Crowsphus  I  you  clippe  the  kinge's  language, 

you  would  have  said  Carisophus ; 
But  I  perceive  now,  either  the  winde  is  at  the  south, 
Or   els   your    tounge  cleaveth    to    the  roofe  of  your 

mouth. 
Grmme.   A  murian   take  thik  wine,  it  so  intoxicate 

my  braine, 
That  to  be  hanged  by  and  by,  I  cannot  speake  plaine. 
Jacke.  You  speake  knavishly  playne,  seinge  my  mas- 
ter you  doo  mocke  : 
In  faith  ere  you  go,  I  will  make  you  a  lobbe  cocke. 
Father  Grimme,  what  say  they  of  this  Damon  abrode  ? 
Grimme.  All  men  are  sorie  for  him,  so  helpe  me 

God. 
The  say  a  false  knave  cused  him  to  the  king  wrong- 

fully  ; 
And  he  is  gone,  and  should  be  here  to  morow  to  die. 
Or  els  his  fellow  which  is  in  prison  his  rowme  shall 

supplie. 


*'  loere]  was,  2d  edit. 


236  DAMON  AND  PITHIAS. 


Chil  not  be  his  halfe  for  vortie  shillinges  I  tell  you 

playne, 
I  thinke  Damon  be  too  wise  to  returne  agayne. 

Wt/U.  Wyll  no  man  speake  for  them  in  this  wofull 

case? 
Grimme.  No  chill  warrant  you,  one  maister  Stippus 

is  in  place, 
Where  he  may  doo  good,  but  he  frames  himselfe  so. 
Whatsoever  Dionisius  wylleth,  to  that  he  wyll  not  say 

no: 
'Tis  a  subtill  vox,  he  will  not  tread  on  thornes  for  none, 
A  mery  harecoppe'*'  'tis,  and  a  pleasant  companion  ; 
A  right  courtier,  and  can  provide  for  one. 

Jacke.  Wyll,  howe  lyke  you  this  geare  ?  your  master 

Aristippus  also. 
At  this  colier's  hande  hath  had  a  bloe. 
But  in  faith,  father  Grimme,  cannot  ye  coliers 
Provide  for  your  selves  far  better  then  courtiers  ? 

Gnmme.  Yes,  I  trowe  :  blacke  coliers  go  in  threade- 

bare  cotes, 
Yet  so  provide  they,  that  they  have  the  faire  white 

groates. 
Ich  may  say  in  counsell,  though  all  day   I  moyle  in 

dourte, 
Chil  not  change  lives  with  any  in  Dionisius'  courte  : 
For  though  their  apparell  be  never  so  fine. 
Yet  sure  their  credit  is  farre  worse  then  mine. 
And  by  cocke  I  may  say,  for  all  their  hie  lookes, 
I  knowe  some  stickes  full  deepe  in  marchants  bookes : 
And  deeper  will  fall  in,  as  fame  me  telles. 
As  long  as  insteede  of  money  they  take  up  haukes  hoods 

and  belles  '^ : 


'0  harecoppe]  Coppe,  in  Chaucer,  is  used'  for  the  top  of  any  thing, 
and  here  seems  intended  to  signify  the  head,  or,  as  the  oommon 
phrase  is,  a  hare-brained  fellow. 

Hare  coppe,  may  be  a  corruption  of  heark  up,  a  phrase  in  use  among 
our  ancient  sportsmen.  Hare  cup  is  likewise  one  of  the  names  of 
the  spring-flower  called  the  hare  hell.  S. 

"  insteede  of  money  they  take  up  haukes  hoods  and  belles]  See  Note 
49  to  The  White  Devil,  vol.  VI. 


DAMON   AND   PITHIAS.  237 


Wherby  they  fall  into  a  swelling  disease,  which  coliers 

do  not  know ; 
Tath  a  mad  name  it  is  called,  ich  weene,  Centum  pro 

cento. 
Some  other  in  courtes  make  others  laugh  merily, 
When  they  wayle  and  lament  their  owne  estate  secretly. 
Friendship  is  dead  in  courte,  hipocrisie  doth  raigne, 
Who  is  in  favour  now,  to  morow  is  out  agayne : 
The  state  is  so  uncertaine,  that  I,  by  my  wyll, 
Will  never  be  courtier,  but  a  coHer  styll. 

Wyll.  It  seemeth  that  coliers  have  a  very''^  trym  life. 
Grimme.  Coliers  get  money  styll  :  tell  me  of  trouth, 
Is  not  that  a  trim  life  now,  as  the  world  goeth  ? 
All  day  though  I  toyle  with  mayne  and  might. 
With  mony  in  my  pouche  1  come  home  mery  at  night, 
And  sit  downe,  in  my  chayre  by  my  wyfe  faire  Alison, 
And  tourne    a   crabbe   in  the  fire,  as  mery  as  pope 
John    . 
Jacke.  That    pope    was  a   merry  fellow,  of  whome 

folke  talke  so  much. 
Grimme.    H'ad    to   be   merry    withal,   h'ad   goulde 

enough  in  his  hutch. 
Jacke.  Can  gould  make  men  mery  ?  they  say,  who 
can  singe  so  mery  a  note, 
As  he  that  is  not  able  to  change  a  grote  ? 

Grimme.  Who  singes  in  that  case,  singes  never  in 

tune.    I  know  for  my  parte. 

That  a  heavy  pouch  with  goulde  makes  a  light  harte : 

Of  which  I  have  provided  for  a  deare  yeare  good  store, 

And  these  benters  '^\  I  trowe,  shall  anone  get  lae  more. 

}VylL  By  serving  the  courte  with  coles,  you  gaynde 

all  this  money. 
Grimme.  By  the  court  onely,  I  assure  yee. 


▼2  very]  merie,  2nd  edit. 

7'  And  tourne  a  crabhe  in  the  fire,  as  mery  as  Pope  John]  See  Note 
22  to  Gammer  Giir ton's  Needle  vol.  II. 

7<  And  these  benters]  Benne  is  the  French  word  for  a  sack  to  carry 
coals.  See  Cotgi-ave.  He  may,  however  mean  debentures,  i.  e. 
notes  by  which  a  debt  is  claimed.  Jack  mentions  debentures  af- 
terwards.   S. 


238  DAMON  AND  PITHIAS. 


Jacke.  After  what  sorte,  I  pray  thee  tell  mee  ? 
Grimme.  Nay,  ther  bate  an  ace  (quod  Boulton  '*)  I 

can  weare  a  horne  and  blow  it  not. 
Jacke.  Byr  ladie,  the  wiser  man. 
Grimme.  Shall  I  tell  you  by  what  slite  I  got  all  this 
money? 
Then  ich  weare  a  noddy  indeede ;  no,  no,  I  warreant 

ye. 

Yet  in  few  words  I  tell  you  this  one  thinge. 
He  is  a  very  foole  that  cannot  gayne  by  the  kinge. 
Wyll.  Well  sayde,  father  Grimme :  you  are   a  wilie 
colier,  and  a  brave, 
I  see  now  there  is  no  knave  like  to  the  olde  knave. 
Grimme.  Suche  knaves  have  mony,  when  courtiers 
have  none. 
But  tell  me,  is  it  true  that  abrode  is  blowne  ? 
Jacke.  What  is  that? 

Grimme.  Hath  the  kinge  made  those  fayre  damsels 
his  daughters. 
To  be  come  now  fine  and  trimme  barbers  ? 
Jacke.  Yea  truly,  to  his  owne  person. 
Grimme.  Good  fellowes  beleve  mee,  as  the  case  now 
standes, 
I  would  geve  one  sacke  of  coles  to  be  washt  at  their 

handes. 
If  ich  came  so  neare  them,  for  my  wyt  chould  not  geve 

three  chippes, 
If  ich  could  not  steale  one  swap  at  their  lippes. 


75  Nay,  ther  hate  an  ace  (quoth  Boulton)-]  Bate  me  an  ace,  quoth 
Bolton,  is  among  the  Proverbs  published  by  Mr.  Ray.  That  gen- 
tleman adds,  "  Who  this  Bolton  was  I  know  not,  neither  is  it  worth 
"  enquiring-.  One  of  this  name  might  happen  to  say.  Bate  me  an 
"  ace,  and,  for  the  coincidence  of  the  first  letters  of  the  two  words 
"  BatB  and  Bolton,  it  grew  to  be  a  proverb.  We  have  many  of  the 
"  like  original ;  as,  v.g.  Sup,  Simon,  &c.  Stay,  quoth  Stringer,  &c. 
"  There  goes  a  story  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  that  being  presented 
"  with  a  Collection  of  English  Proverbs,  and  told  by  the  Author 
"  that  it  contained  all  the  English  Proverbs,  nay,  replied  she,  Bate 
"  me  an  ace  quoth  Bolton  ;  which  Proverb  being  instantly  looked  for, 
"  happened  to  be  wanting  in  his  CoUectiou."  Ray's  Proverbs, 
p.  1T7. 


DAMON  AND  PITHIAS.  239 


Jacke.  Wyil,  this  knave  isdrunke,letus  dressehim; 
Let  us  rifFell  him  so,  that  he  have  not  one  pennie  to 

blesse  him, 
And  steale  away  his  debenters  too. 

Wyll.  Content :  invent  the  way,  and  I  am  readie, 
Jacke.  Faith,  and  I  wyll  make  him  a  noddie. 
Father  Grimme,  if  you  praie  mee  weF^,  I  wyll  wash 

you  and  shave  you  too, 
Even  after  the  same  fashion  as  the  kinges  daughters  doo : 
In  all  poyntes  as  they  handle  Dionisius,  I»  wyll  dresse 
you  trim  and  fine, 
Grimme.  Chuld  vaine  learne  that:  come  on  then, 
chil  geve  thee  a  whol  pint  of  wine 
At  taverne  for  thy  labour,  when  cha  mony  for  my  ben- 

ters  heare. 
Here  WYLLfetcheth  a  barbers  bason,  a  pot  with  water, 
a  raysour,  and  clothes,  and  a  payre  of  spectacles. 
Jacke.    Come,     mine     owne    father    Grimme,    sit 

downe. 
Grimme.  Masse,  to  beginne  withall,  heare  is  a  trimme 

chayre. 
Jacke.  What  man,  I  wyll  use  you  like  a  prince. — 

Sir  boy,  fetche  me  my  geare. 
JVyll.  Here,  syr. 

Jacke.  Holde  up,  father  Grimme. 
Grimme.  Me  seeme  my  head  doth  swimme. 
Jacke.  My  costly  perfumes  make  that. — Away  with 
this,  sir  boy  :  be  quicke. 
Aloyse,  aloyse^',  how  pretie  it  is!  is  not  here  a  good 

face? 
A  fine  oules  eyes,  a  mouth  lyke  an  oven. 
Father,  you  have  good  butter  teeth,  full  seene ; 
You  weare  weaned,  els  you  would  have  ben  a  great 

calfe. 
Ah  trimme  lippes  to  sweepe  a  manger !  here  is  a  chinne. 
As  soft  as  the  hoofe  of  an  horse. 


this  to  pay  mee  ivet, 

Ti  Aloyse,  aloyse]  Aloue,  Fr.  is  to  allow,  to  approve,  to  praise.  I 
know  of  no  other  word  that  resembles  that  in  the  text.  AU)sed,  in 
Chaucer,  is  praised^    S. 


240  DAMON  AND  PITIIIAS. 


Gr'imme.  Doth  the  kinges  daughters  rubbe  so  harde  ? 
Jacke.  Holde  your  head  straite,  man,  els,  all  wyll  be 
marde. 
Byr  ladie,  you  are  of  good  complexion, 
A  right  Croyden  sanguine  *,  beshrew  mee. 
Hould  up,  father  Grimme. —  Wyll,  can  you  besturre  ye? 
Grimme.  Me  thinks,  after  a  marvelous  fashion  you 

do  besmoure  me. 
Jacke,  It  is  with  unguentum  of  Daucus  Maucus,  that 
is  very  costly : 
I  geue  not  this  washinge  ball  to  every  body. 
After  you  have  ben  drest  so  finely  at  my  hande, 
You  may  kisse  any  ladies  lippes  within  this  lande, 
A,  you  are  trimly  washt !  how  say  you,  is  not  this  trimm 
water  ? 
Gnmme.  It  may  be  holsome,  but  it  is  vengeaunce 

sower. 
Jacke.  It  scours  the  better. — Syr  boy,  geve  me  my 

raysour. 
Wyll.  Here  at  hand,  syr. 
Grimme.  Gods  aymes !  'tis  a  chopping  knyfe,  'tis  no 

raysour. 
Jacke.  It  is  a  raysour,  and  that  a  very  good  one ; 
It  came   lately  from   Palermo'^';,  it   cost   mee   twenty 

crownes  alone. 
Your  eyes  dassell  after  your  washing,  these  spectacles 

put  on  : 
Now  vew  this  raysour,  tell  mee,  is  it  not  a  good  one  ? 
Grimme.  They  be  gay  barnikels,  yet  I  see  never  the 

better. 
Jacke.  In  deede  they  be  a  young  sight,  and  that  is 
the  matter ; 

*  From  tlie  manner  in  which  this  expression  is  used  by  Sir  John 
Harrington,  in  The  Anatomic  of  the  Metamorphosis  of  AJax,  Sig.  L.  7. 
it  seems  as  though  it  was  intended  for  a  sallow  hue.  "  Both  of  a 
"  complexion  inclining  to  the  oriental  colour  of  a  Croyden  sanguine.'' 

'^  It  came  lately  from  Palermo]  The  4tos  read  Pallarrime.  The  razors 
of  Palermo  were  anciently  famous.  They  are  mentioned  in  more 
than  one  of  our  old  Plays,  and  particularly  in  The  Wou7ids  of  Civill 
War  by  Thomas  Lodge,  1594,  vol.  Vlll.  83.  "  Neighbour  sharpen 
"  the  edge  tole  of  your  wits  upon  the  whetsone  of  indiscretion,  that 
"  your  wordes  may  shave  like  the  rasers  of  Palermo."    S. 


DAMON   AND  PITHIAS.  241 


But  I  warrant  you,  this  raysour  is  very  easie. 

Grimme,  Go  too  then ;  since  you  begonne,  doo  as 

please  ye. 
Jacke.  Holde  up,  father  Grimme. 
Grimme.  O  your  raysour  doth  hurt  my  lippe. 
Jacke.  No,  it  scrapeth  of  a  pimpell  to  ease  you  of  the 
pippe. 
I  have  done  now,  how  say  you?  are  you  not  well? 
Grimme.  Cham  lighter  then  ich  was,  the  truth  to  tell. 
Jacke.   Will  you  singe  after  your  shavinge? 
Grimme.  Mas,  content;  but  chill  be  poide  first  or  I 

singe. 
Jacke.  Nay  that  shall  not  neede,  you  are  pould  neare 

enough  for  this  time. 
Grimme.  Go  too  then  lustyly,  I  will  singe  in  my  man*s 
voyce : 
Chave  a  troublinge  base  busse. 

Jacke.  You  are  lyke  to  beare  the  bobbe,  for  we  wyll 
geve  it : 
Set  out  your  bussyng  base,    and   wee   wyll  quiddell 
upon  it. 

Grim'M'E.  singeth  Busse. 
Jacke  singes.  Too  nidden,  and  too  nidden. 
IVyll  singes.   Too    nidden,    and    toodle    toodle   doo 
nidden  ; 
Is  not  Grimme  the  colier  most  finely  shaven? 

Grimme.  Why,  my  fellowes,  thinke  iche  am  a  cowe, 

that  you  make  such  toying? 
Jacke.  Nay  by'r  ladie,   you    are  no  cow,  by  your 
singmg; 
Yet  your  wife  told  me  you  were  an  oxe. 

Grimme.  Did  she  so?  'tis  a  pestens  queue '^,  she  is 
full  of  such  mockes. 
But  go  to,  let  us  singe  out  our  songe  merely. 
The  songe  at  the  shaving  of  the  colier. 
Jacke.  Suche  barbers^  God  send  you  at  ait  times  of 

neede. 
Wyll.  That  can  dress  eyou  finely,  and  make  such  quicke 
speede. 

7^  ■peitem  qiism'\   He  means  a  pestilent  quean.     S- 
roL.  I.  R 


242  DAMON  AND  PITHIAS. 


Jacke.  Your  face  like  an  income  now  shineth  so  gay — 
Wyll.   That  I  with  your  nostrels  of  force  must  needes 
play, 
With  too  Hidden,  and  too  nidden. 

Jacke.   With  too  nidden,  and  todle  todle  doo  nidden. 
Is  not  Grimme  the  colicr  most  finely  shaven  ? 

Wyll.     With   shaving    you    shine    lyke   a  pestle   of 

porke*^. 
Jacke.  Here  is  the  trimmest  hogges-flesh  from  London 

to  Yorke. 
Wyll.   It  would  be  trimme  baken  to  hange  up  awhile. 
Jacke.   To  play   with  this  hogline,   of  force   I  must 
smyle. 
With  too  nidden,  and  too  nidden. 
Wyll.    With  too  nidden,  and  todle,  &c. 
Grimme.   Your  shaving  doth  please  me,  I  am  now  your 

debter. 
Wyll.   Your  wife  now  will  busse  you,  because  you  are 

sweater. 
Grimme.  Neare  would  I  be  poled,  as  neere  as  cham 

shaven. 
Wyll.   Then  out  of  your  jerkin  needes  must  you  be 
shaken. 
With  too  nidden,  nnd  too  nidden,  &c. 

Grimme.  It  is   a   trimme  thing  to   be  washt  in  the 

courte. 
Wyll.  Their  handes  are  so  fine,  that  they  never  doo 

hurte. 
Grimme.  Meihinke  ich  am  lighter  then  ever  ich  was. 
Wyll.  Our  shaveinge  in   the  courte  hath  brought  this 
to  passe. 
With  too  nidden,  and  too  nidden. 

Jacke     With  too  nidden,  and  todle  todle  doo  nidden. 
Is  not  Grimme  the  colier  most  finely  ''  shaven  ?       \Finis. 
Grimme.  This  is  trimly  done  :  now  chil  pitche  my 
coles  not  farre  hence, 
And  then  at  the  taverne  chil  bestows  whole  tway  pence. 

8^  a  pestle  qfporke]  i.  e.  gammon  of  bacon.     Minshieu. 
^^Jinely]  trimly,  2d  edit. 


DAMON  AND  PITHIAS.  243 


Jacke,  Farewel  cocke.    Before  the  colier  againe  doo 
us  seeke, 
Let  us  into  the  courte  to  parte  the.  spoyle,  share  and 
share  like. 
fVyll.  Away  then.  \^Exeunt. 

Here  entreth  Grimme. 
GTimme.  Out  alas,  where  shall  I  make  my  mone  ? 
My  pouche,  my  benters,  and  all  is  gone! 
Wher  is  that  villayne  that  dyd  me  shave? 
Hath  robbed  me,  alas !  of  all  that  I  have. 
Here  entreth  Snap. 
Snap.  Who  crieth  so  at  the  courte  gate  ? 
Grimme.  I,  the  poore  colier,  that  was  robbed  of  kte. 
Snap.  Who  robbed  thee? 

Grimme,  Twoo  of  the  porters  men  that  dyd  shave  me. 
Snap.  Why,  the  porters  men  are  no  barbers. 
Grimme.    A  vengance   take  them,  they   are    quicke 

carvers. 
Snap.  What  stature  weare  they  of? 
Grimme.    As   little  dapper  knaves,   as   they   trimly 

could  scoffe. 
Snap.  They  were  lackeyes,  as  neare  as  I  can  gesse 

them. 
Grimme.  Such  lackies  make  mee  lacke;  an  halter 
beswinge  them : 
Cham  undon,  they  have  my  benters  too. 

Snap.  Doest  thou  know  them,  if  thou  seest  them  ? 

Grimme.  Yea,  that  I  doo. 

Snap.  Then  come  with  me,  we  wyll  finde  them  out, 

and  that  quickly. 
Grimme,    I  folow,   mast   tipstafFe ;    they  be  in  the 

courte  it  is  likely. 
Snap.  Then  crie  no  more,  come  away.  [Exeunt. 

Here  entreth  Carisophds  and  Aristippus. 
If  ever  you  wyll  shew  your  friendship,  now  is  the  time, 
Seing  the  king  is  displeased  with  me,  of  my   parte 
without  any  crime. 
Aristippus.  It  should  appeare,  it  comes  of  some  evell 
behaviour. 
That  you  so  sodenly  are  cast  out  of  favour. 


244  DAMON   AND  PITHIAS. 


Carisophus.  Nothing  have  I  done  but  this ;  in  talke 
I  overthwarted  Eubulus, 
When  he  lamented  Pithias'  case  to  kinge  Dionisius. 
Which  to  morrow  shall  die,  but  for  that  false  knave 

Damon, 
He  hath  left  his  friend  in  the  briers,  and  now  is  gone. 
Wee  grew  so  hot   in   talke,  that    Eubulus    protested 

playnely, 
Dionisius®'^  held  his  eare  open  to  parasitica!!  flatterie. 
And  now  in  the  kinges  eare  like  a  bell  he  ringes. 
Crying,    that  flatterers    have   ben   the   destroyers    of 

kinges. 
Wh\ch  talke  in  Dionisius*  harte  hath   made  so  deepe 

impression, 
That  he  trusteth  me  not,  as  heretofore,  in  no  condition  : 
And  some  wordes  brake  from  him,  as  though  that  hee 
Began  to  suspect  my  trouth  and  honestie, 
Which  you  of  friendship  I  know  wyll  defend,  how  so 

ever  the  world  goeth  : 
My  frind,  for  my  honestie  will  you  not  take  an  othe  ? 
Aristippus.  To  sweare  for  your  honestie,  I  should  lose 

mine  owne. 
Carisophus.  Should  you  so  indeede?  I  would   that 
were  knowne. 
Is  your  voyde  friendship  come  thus  to  passe? 

Aristippus.  I  folow  the  proverbe:   Amicus  usque  ad 

auras. 
Carisophus.   Where  can  you  say  I  ever   lost   mine 
honestie  ? 


^^ Dionisius.]  Both  the  4tos  read  Whiche.  The  alteration  by 
Mr.  Dodsley. 

Perhaps  no  alteration  at  all  was  necessary  ;  for  in  our  old  writers, 
which  and  icho  are  sometimes  used  indifferently :  at  all  events,  it 
would  have  been  doing  less  violence  to  the  text  (especially  taking 
the  measure  into  consideration)  if  merely  wJio  had  been  substituted 
for  which,  as  it  stands  in  the  old  copies,  and  not  Dionisius,  as  Mr. 
Dodsley  conjectured,  and  Mr.  Reed  allowed  it  to  remain.  The 
sense  of  the  passage  is  clearly  this,  "  that  Eubulus  protested  plainly 
••  icho  it  was  that  held  his  ear  open  to  parasitical  flattery,"  viz. 
Dionisius  whom  Carisophus  intends  to  be  understood  rather  than 
expressly  named.     C. 


DAMON   AND   PITIIIAS.  245 


Aristippus.  You   never  lost  it,  for  you  never  had  it, 

as  farre  as  I  know. 
Cariiiophus.  Say   you  so,  friend  Aristippus,  whom  I 

trust  so  well  ? 
Aristippus.  Because  you  trust  me,  to  you  the  truth  1 

tell. 
Carisophus.    Wyll    you  not  stretche  one  poynt,  to 

bring  mee  in  favour  agayne  ? 
Aristippus.  I  love  no  stretching ;  so   I  may  breede 

myne  owne  payne. 
Carisophus.  A  friende  ought  to  shonne  no  payne,  to 

stand  his  friend  in  stead. 
Aristippus.  Where  true  friendship  is,  it  is  so  in  very 

deede. 
Carisophus.  Why,  sir,  hath   not  the  chaine  of  true 

frindship  linked  us  two  together? 
Aristippus.  The  chiefest  linke,  lacked  therof,  it  must 

needs  desever. 
Carisophus.    What    linke    is    that?    faine    would   I 

know. 
Aristippus.  Honestie. 
Carisophus.  Doth  honestie  knit  the  perfect  knot  in 

true  friendship  ? 
Aristippus.  Yea,  truely,  and  that  knot  so  knit  wyll 

never  shppe. 
Carisophus.  Belike  then,  there    is  no  frindship  but 

betweene  honest  men. 
Aristippus.  Betwene  the  honest  only;  for,  Amicitia 

inter  bonos  *^,  saith  a,  learned  man. 
Carisophus.    Yet  evell  men  use  frindship  in  things 

unhonest,  wher  fancy  doth  serve. 
Aristippus.  That  is  no  frindship,  but  a  lewde  likeing  ; 

it  lastes  but  a  while.    . 
Carisophus.  What  is  the   perfectst  frindship  among 

men  that  ever  grew  ? 
Aristippus.  Where  men  love  one  another,  not    for 

profit,  but  for  vertue. 

^^  bones]  bonus.     Both  4tos. 


246  DAMON   AND  PlTIllAS. 


Carisophus.  Are  such    frindes  both  ahke  in  joy  and 

also  in  smarte? 
Aristippus.  They  must  needs;  for  in  two  bodies  they 

have  but  one  harte. 
Carisophus.  Friend  Aristippus,  deceave  rne  not  with 

sophistrie  : 
Is  there  no  perfect  frindship,  but  where  is    vertue  and 

honestie  ? 
Aristippus.   What  a  devell  then  ment  Carisophus 
Tojoyne  in  frindship  with  fine  Aristippus? 
In  whom  is  as  much  vertue,  trueth  and  honestie, 
As  there  are  true  fethers  in  the  three  Craines  of  the 

Vintree'"* : 
Yet  their  ^*  fethers   have  the   shadow  of  hvely  fethers, 

the  truth  to  scan, 
But  Carisophus  hath  not  the  shadowe  of  an  honest  man. 
To  be  piayne,  because  I  know  thy  villany, 
In  abusinge  Dionisius  to  many  mens  injury, 
Under  the  cloke  of  frindship  t  playd  with  his  head, 
And  sought  meanes  how  thou  with  thine  owne  fancy 

might  be  lead. 
My  frindship  thou  soughtest  for  thine  owne  commoditie, 
As  worldly  men  doo,  by  profile  measuring  amitie  : 
Which  I  perceaving,  to  the  lyke  myselfe  I  framed, 
Wherein,  I  know,  of  the  wise  I  shall  not  be  blamed  : 
If  you  ask  me,  Quare  ?  I  answer,  Quia  prudentis  est  mul- 

tum  dissimulare. 
To  speake  more  playner,  as  the  proverb  doth  go, 
In  faith  Carisophus,  cum  Cretense  cretiso. 
Yet  a  perfect  frinde  I  shew  myselfe  to  thee  in  one  thing, 
I  doo  not  dissemble,  now  I  say  I  wyll  not  speake  for 

thee  to  the  king  : 

*  the  three  Craines  of  the  Vintree]  Sometimes  called  New  Queen 
Street,  where  there  seems  to  have  been  the  sign  of  the  three 
Cranes..  Ben  Jonson  mentions  this  place  in  The  Devil  is  an  Ass, 
A.  l.S.  1. 

"  From  thence  shoot  the  bridge  child,  to  the  Cranes  of  the  Vintry, 
"  And  see  there  the  gimblets  how  they  make  their  entry  I" 

Stow  says  it  was  a  place  of  some  account  for  the  Costermongers 
who  had  ware-houses  there  ;  and  it  appears  from  Dekkar's  Belman 
of  London,  Sign.  E  2,  that  the  beggars  of  his  time  called  one  of 
their  places  of  rendezvous  by  this  name. 

8*  their2  these,  1st  edit.  2 


DAMON   AND   PITHIAS.  247 


Therfore  sinke  in  thy  sorrow,  I  doo  not  deceave  thee, 
A  false  knave  I  found  thee,  a  false  knave  I  leave  ihee. 

[Exit, 
Carisophus.  He   is  gone  !    is  this   frindship  to  leave 

his  friend  in  the  plaine  fielde? 
Well,  1  see  now  I  myselfe  have  beguyeld, 
In  matching  with  that  false  fox  in  amitie, 
Which  hath  me  used  to  his  owne  commoditie: 
Which  seeing  me   in   distresse,    unfainedly   goes   his 

wayes. 
Loe   this  is  the  perfect    frindship  among  men  now  a 

daies  ; 
Which  kinde  of  frindship  toward  him  I  used  secretly; 
And  he  with  me  the  like  hath  requited  me  craftly. 
It  is  the  Gods  judgment,  I  see  it  playnely, 
For  all  the  woride  may  know,  Incidi  in  foveam  quam 

feci. 
Well,  1    must  content  my  selfe,  none  other  helpe  I 

knowe. 
Until   a  raerier  gale    of  winde  may  happe  to  blowe. 

\_Exit. 
,  Enter  Eubulus. 
Eubulus.  Who  deals  with  kinges  in  matters  of  great 

waight, 
When  froward  wyll  doth  beare  the  chefest  sway. 
Must  yeld  of  force ;  there  neede  no  subtile  sleight, 
Ne  paynled^"^  speach  the  matter  to  convay. 
No  prayer  can  move  when  kindled  is  the  ire. 
The  more  ye  quench,  the  more  increased  is  the  fire. 
This  thinge  I  prove  in  Pithias'  woful  case, 
Whose  heavy  iiap  with  teareg  1  doo  lament: 
The  day  is  come,  when  he  in  Damon's  place, 
Must  lose  his  life  :  the  time  is  fully  spent. 
Nought  can  my  words  now  with  the  kingprevaile, 
Against  the  wind  and  strivinge  stream  ^'  I  sayle: 
For  die  thou  must,  alas!  thou  sely  Greeke. 
Ah,  Phithas,  now  come  is  thy  dolefuU  houre : 
A  perfect  friend,  none  such  a  world  to  seeke, 

•8  paynteS  vaunted,  2d  edit.  ^7  streams,  2d  edit. ' 


248  UAMON   AND  TITHIAS. 


Though  bitter  death  shall  geve  thee  sauce  full  sower, 
Yet  for  thy  faith  enrold  shall  be  thy  name, 
Among  the  gods,  within  the  booke  of  fame. 
Who  knoweth  his  case,  and  will  not  melt  in  teares  ? 
His  giltless  bloud  shall  trickle  downe  anon, 

THEN  THE  MUSES  SINGE. 

Mas,  what  happe  hast  thou,  povre  Pilhias,  now  to  die ! 
Wo  worth  the  man  wJiich  for  his  death  hath  geven  us 
cause  to  crie. 

Eubulus.  Methinke  I  heare,  with  yeloiv  rented  heares, 
The  Muses  frame  their  notes,  thy*  state  to  mone : 
Among  which  sorte,  as  one  that  morneth  with  harte, 
In  doleful  tunes  myself  wy II  beare  a  parte. 

Muses.    Wo  worth  the  man  which  for  his  death,  &c. 

Eubulus.    M^ith  yelow  rented   heares,   come   on   you 
Muses  nine; 
Fyll  now  my  breast  with  heavy  tunesy  to  me  your  plaints 

resigns  : 
For  Pithlas  I  bewayle,  which  presently  must  die, 
Wo  worth  the  man  which  for  his  death  hath  geven  us 
cause,  &c. 
Muses.   Wo  worth  the  man  which  for  his,  &c. 

Eubulus.  Was  ever  such  a  man,  that  would  die  for  his 
friend  ? 
1  thinke  even  from  the  heavens  above,  the  gods  did  him 

downe  sende 
To  shew  true  friendshipp's  power,  which  forst  thee  now 

to  die. 
Wo  worth  the  man  which  for  thy  death,  &c. 
Muses.   Wo  worth  the  man,  &c. 
Eubulus.   What  tigars  whelp  was  he,  that  Damon  dyd 
accuse  ? 
What  faith  hast  thou,  which  for  thy  friend  thy  death  doth 
not  refuse  ? 

*  Both  the  old  copies  have  it  "  my  state  to  mone"  which  may  be 
right,  and  the  substitution  should  not  have  been  made  without 
notice.     C. 


DAMON   AND   PIT  MI  AS.  249 


O  heavy  happe  hadst  thou  to  play  this  tragidie ! 
Wo  worth  the  man  which  for  thy  death,  &c. 
Muses.   Worth  the  vian,  &c. 

Eubulus.    Thou   young    and    worthy    Greeke,    that 
showest  such  perfect  love, 
The  gods  receave  thy  simple  ghost  into  the  heavens  above : 
Thy  death  we  shall  lament  with  many  a  iveepinge  eye. 
Wo  worth  the  man,  which  for  his  death,  &c. 

Muses.   Wo  worth  the  man,  which  for  thy  death  hath 
geven  us  cause  to  crie,  [Finis. 

Eubulus.  Eternall  be  your  fame,  ye  Muses,  for  that 
in  niiserie 
Ye  did  vouchsafe  to  strayne  your  notes  to  walke. 
My  harte  is  rent  in  two  with  this  miserable  case. 
Yet  am  I  charged  by  Dionisius'  mouth,  to  se  this  place 
At  all  poynts  ready  for  the  execution  of  Pithias. 
Neede  hath  no  law  :  wylP*  I,  or  nil  I,  it  must  be  done, 
But  loe,  the  bloodie  minister  is  even  here  at  hande. 
Gronno,  1  came  hether  now  to  understand, 
If  all  thinges  are  well  appoynted  for  the  execution  of 

Pithias. 
The  kinge  him  selfe  wyll  se  it  done  here  in  this  place. 
Gronno.  vSir,  all  thinges  are  ready,  here  is  the  place, 
here  is  the  hand,  here  is  the  sword : 
Here  lacketh  non  but  Pithias,  whose  head  at  a  worde. 
If  he  were  present,  I  coulde  finely  strike  of. 
You  may  reporte  that  all  thinges  are  ready, 

Euhiilus.  I  go  with  an  heavy  harte  to  report  it.    Ah, 

woful  Pithias ! 

Full  neare  now  is  thy  misery.  [Exit. 

Gronno.  I  marvell  very  much,  under  whatconstilation 

All  hangmen  are  borne,  for   they   are   hated   of  all, 

beloved  of  none : 
Which  hatred  is  showed  by  this  poynt  evidently : 
The  hangman  alwayes  dwelles  ir   he  vilest  place  of  the 
citie. 

^8  wyll  I,  or  nil  I]    Whether  I  will  or  not.     See  Note  23  to  Grim 
the  Collier  of  Crovdon,  vol,  XT. 


250  DAMON   AND  PITHIAS, 


That  such  spight  should  be,  I  know  no  cause  why, 
Unlesse  it  be  tor  their  offices  sake,  which  is  cruel  and 

bloody. 
Yet  some  men  must  do  it,  to  execute  lawes. 
Me  thinke  they  hate  me  without  any  just  cause. 
But  1  must  looke  to  my  toyle ;  Pithias  must  lose  his 

head  at  one  blow, 
Els  the  boyes  wyil  stone  me  to  death  in  the  streat  as  I 

go. 
But  harke,  the  prisoner  cometh,  and  the  kinge  also : 
I  see  there  is  no  help,  Pithias  his  life  must  forgo. 

Here  entretli  DiONisius  and  Eueulus. 
Bring  forth  Pithias,  that  pleasant  companion. 
Which    tooke  mee  at  my  worde,  and  became  pleadge 

for  Damon. 
It  pricketh  *^  fast  upon  noone,  I  doo  him  no  injurie, 
If  now  he  lose  his  head,  for  so  he  requested  me. 
If  Damon  returne  not,  which  now  in  Greece  is   full 

mery : 
Therfo\;e  shall  Pithias  pay  his  death,  and  thatby  and  by. 
He  thought  belike,  if  Damon  were  out  of  the  citie, 
I  woBild  not  put  him  to  death  for  some  foolishe  pitie : 
But  seeing  it  was  his  request,  I  wyll  not  be  mockt,  he 

shall  die; 
Bring  him  forth. 

Here  entreth  Snap.* 
iS'wap.  Geve  place,    let  the  prisoner  come  by;  give 

place. 
Dionisius.  How  say  you,  sir;  where  is  Damon,  your 

trustie  friend  ? 
You  have  playd  a  wise  part,  I  make  God  a  vow : 
You  know  what  time  a  day  it  is,  make  you  ready. 
Pithias,  Most  ready  1  am,    mightie  king,  and  most 

ready  also 
For  my  true  friend  Damon  this  lyfe  to  forgo, 
Even  at  your  pleasure. 

^9  pricketh]  i.  e.  it  ride...  fast  upon  noon.  The  word  is  used  by 
Spenser  and  many  of  our  ancient  writers. 

*  With  Pithias  in  his  custody,  and  Stephano,  as  is  evident  from 
the  rest  of  the  scene.     C. 


DAMON   AND   PITHIAS.  251 


iJionisius,  A   true  frend !  a   false   traytor,   that  o 

breaketh  his  oth. 
Thou  shalt  lose  thy  life,  though  thou  be  never  so  loth. 

Pithias.  I  am  not  loth  to  doo  what  so  ever  I  sayde, 
Ne  at  this  present  pinch  of  death  am  I  distnayde: 
The  Gods  now  I  know  have  heard  my  fervent  prayer, 
That   they  have  reserved    me  to   this  passynge  great 

honour, 
To  die  for  my  frend,  whose  faith  even    now  I  doo  not 

mistruste; 
My  frinde  Damon  is   no  false  traytour,  he  is  true  and 

juste: 
But  sith  he  is   no  God,  but  a  man,  he  must  doo  as  he 

may. 
The  winde  may  be  contrary,  sicknes  may  let  him^°,  or 

some  misadventure  by  the  way, 
Which  the  eternall  Gods  tourne  all  to  my  glorie, 
That  fame  may  resound  how  Pithias  for  Damon  did  die : 
He  breaketh  no  oth  which  doth  as  much  as  he  can. 
His  minde  is  heare,  he  hath  some  let,  he  is  but  a  man. 
That  he  mig;ht  not  returne  of  all  the  Gods  I  did  require, 
Which  now  to  my  joy  do  ^'  graunt  my  desire. 
But  why  doo  I  stay  any  longer,  seing  that  one  man's 

death 
May  suffise,  O  king,  to  pacifie  thy  wrath? 
O  thou  minister  of  justice,  doo  thyne  office  by  and  by, 
Let  not  thy  hand  tremble,  for  I  tremble  not  to  die. 
Stephano,  the  right  patrone  of  true  fidelitie, 
Commend  me  to  thy  master,  my  sweet  Damon,  and  of 

him  crave  libertie 
When  I  am  dead,  in  my  name;  for  thy  trustie  services 
Hath  well  deserved  a  gift  farre  better  than  this. 
Oh  my  Damon,  farewell  now  for  ever,  a  true  friend,  to 

me  most  deare ; 
Whyles  lyfe  doth  laste,  my  mouth  shall  styll  talke  of 

thee, 
And  when  I  am  dead,  my  simple  ghost,  true  witnes  of 

amitie. 
Shall  hoover  about  the  place  wheresoever  thou  bee. 
^  let  him,]  i.  e.  hinder  him.  "'  do]  doth.     Both  4tos. 


252  DAMON    AND   PITllIAS. 


Dionisius.  Eubulus,  this  geare  is  straunge ;  and  yet 

because 
Damon  hath  falst  his  faith,  Pithias  shall  have  the  lawe, 
GronnO;  dispoyle  hym,  and  eke  dispatch  him  quickly. 
Gronno.  It  shal  be  done ;  since  you  came  into   this 

place, 
I  might  have  stroken  off  seven  heades  in  this  space. 
Ber  lady,  here  aie  good  garments,  these  are  myne  by 

the  roode ! 
It  is  an  evyll  winde  that  bloweth  no  man  good. 
Now   Pithias  kneele   downe,  aske  me  blessyng  like  a 

pretie  boy, 
And  with  a  trise,  thy  head  from  thy  shoulders  I  wyil 

convay. 
Here  entrelh  Damon  running,  and  staijes  the  sword. 
Damon.  Stay,  stay,  stay  !  for  the  kinges  advantage 

stay! 
O  mightie  kynge,  myne  appointed  time  is  not  yet  fully 

past; 
Within  the  compasse  of  myne  houre,  loe  here  I  come 

at  last. 
A  life  I  owe,  and  a  life  I  will  you  pay : 
Oh  !  my  Pithias,  my  noble  pledge,  my  constant  friend ! 
Ah !  wo  is  me !  for  Damon's  sake,  how  neare  were  thou 

to  thy  ende ! 
Geve  place  to  me,  this  rowme  is  myne,  on  this  stag€ 

must  I  play. 
Damon  is  the  man,  none  ought  but  he  to  Dionisius  his 

blood  to  pay. 
Gronno.  Are  you  come,  sir?  you  might  have  taried 

if  you  had  bene  wyse : 
For  your  hastie  comming  you  are  lyke  to  know  the 

prise. 
Pithias.  O  thou  cruel  minnister,  why  didst  not  thou 

thine  office? 
Did  not  I  bidde  thee  make  hast  in  any  wyse? 
Hast  thou  spared  to  kill  me  once,  that  I  may  die  twyse  ? 
Not  to  die  for  my  frend,  is  present  death  to  me ;  and 

alas ! 
Shall  I  see  my  sweet  Damon  slaine  before  my  face  ? 


DAMON  AND   PITHIAS.  253 


What  double  death  is  this  ?  but,  O  mightie  Dionisius, 
Doo    true  justice  now:   way  this    aright,  thou  noble 

Eubulus ; 
Let  mee  have  no  wronge  as  now  standes  the  case, 
Damon  ought  not  to  die,  but  Pithias: 
By  misadventure,  not  by  his  wyll,  his  howre  is  past; 

therefore  I, 
Because  he  came  not  at  his  just  tyme,  ought  justly  to 

die : 
So  was  my  promise,  so  was  thy  promise,  O  kynge. 
All  this  courte  can  beare  witnesse  of  this  thinge. 

Damon.  Not  so,  O  mightie  kynge :  to  justice  it  is 

contrarie, 

That  for  another  man's  faulte  the  innocent  should  die : 

Ne  yet  is  ray  time  playnly  expirde,  it  is  not  fully  noone 

Of  this  my  day  appointed,  by  all   the  clockes  in   the 

towne. 

Pithias.  Beleeve  no  clocke,  the  houre  is  past  by  the 

Sonne. 
Damon,  Ah,  my  Pithias,   shall  we  now  breake  the 
bondes  of  amitie? 
Will  you  now  overthwart  mee,  which  heretofore  so  well 
did  agree  ? 
Pithias.    My  Damon,    the    Goddes  forbid   but  wee 
should  agree ; 
Therefore  agree  to  this,  let  mee  perfourme  the  promise 

made  for  thee. 
Let  mee  die  for  thee ;  doo  mee  not  that  injurie, 
Both  to  breake  my  promise,  and  to  suffer  me  to  see  thee 

die, 
Whome  so  dearly  I  love  :  this  small  request  graunt  mee, 
I  shall  never  aske  thee  more,  my  desire  is  but  frindly. 
Doo  me  this  honour,  that  fame   may  reporte  trium- 
phantly. 
That  Pithias  for  his  friende  Damon  was  contented  to  die. 
Damon.  That  you  were  contented  for  me  to  die  fame 
cannot  denie ; 
Yet  fame  shall  never  touch  me  with  such  a  villanie. 
To  reporte  that  Damon  did  suffer  his  frind  Pithias  for 
him  giltles  to  die  ; 


2$4  DAMON  AND  PITHlAS. 


Therfore  content  thysclfe,  the  Gods  requite  thy  con- 
stant faith. 
None  but  Damon's  bloud  can  appease  Dionisius*  wrath. 
And  now,  O  misrhtie  kin2:e,  to  you  my  talke  I  convay, 
Because  you  gave  me  leave  my  worldly  thinges  to  stay, 
To  requite  that  good  tourne  ere  I  die,  for  your  behalfe 

this  I  say, 
Although  your  regall  state  dame  Fortune  decketh  so, 
That  like  a  kinge  in   worldly  wealth  abondantly  ye 

floe, 
Yet  fickle  is  the  grounde  whereon  all  tirrants  treade, 
A  thousand  sundrie  cares  and  feares  doo  haunt  their 

restlesse  head : 
No  trustie  band,  no  faithful!  friendes  doo  garde  thy 

hatefull  state, 
And  why  ?  whom  men  obey  for  deadly  feare,  sure  them 

they  deadly  hate. 
That  you  may  safely  raigne,  by  love  get  friends,  whose 

constant  faith 
Wyli  never  fayle,  this  counsell  geves  poore  Damon  at 

his  death  : 
Friendes  are  the  surest  garde  for  kinges,  gold  in  time 

doos  ^'^  wear  away. 
And  other  precious  thinges  doo  fade,  frindship  wyll 

never  decay. 
Have  friendes  in  store  therefore,  so  shall  you  safely 

sleape; 
Have  friends  at  home,  of  forraine  foes  so  neede  you 

take  no  keepe. 
Abandon  flatring  tongues,  whose  clackes  truth  never 

tels; 
Abase  the  yll,  advance  the  good,  in  whome  dame  ver- 

tue  dwels ; 


9^2  doos]  doo,  1st  edit. 

The  reading  of  both  the  old  copies  in  this  place  is 
• *'  polden  time  doos  wear  away," 

If  it  were  worth  while  to  remark  the  difference  between  doo  and 
doos,  it  might  have  been  as  well  not  to  make  the  change  in  the  text 
without  notice,  although  it  is  probably  right.     C. 


DAMON^    AND   PITHIAS.  255 


Let  them  your  play  felowes  be  :  but  0,  you  earthly 

kinges, 
Your  sure  defence  and  strongest  garde  stands  chifly  in 

faithfull  friendes: 
Then  get  you  friends  by  liberall  deedes ;  and  here  I 

make  an  ende : 
Accept  this  counsell,  mightie  king,  of  Damon,  Pithias 

friende. 
Oh,  my  Pithias  !  now  farewell  for  ever,  let  me  kisse 

thee  or  ^a  I  die, 
My  soule  shall  honour  thee,  thy  constant  faith  above 

the  heavens  shall  flie. 
Come  Gronno,  doo  thine  office  now  ;  why  is  thy  colour 

so  dead  ? 
My  neck  is  so  short,  that  thou  wylt  never  have  honestie 

in  striking  of  this  head^. 
Dionisius.    Eubulus,  my    spirites    are    sodenly   ap- 

pauled,  my  limes  waxe  weake ; 
This  straunge   friendship   amaseth  me  so,  that  I  can 

scarse  speake. 
Pithias.  O  mightie  kinge,  let  some  pittie  your  noble 

harte  meeve ; 
You  require  but  one  man's  death,  take  Pithias,  let  Da- 
mon live. 
Eubulus.  O  unspeakable  frindship  I 
Damon.  Not  so,  he  hath  not  offended,  there  is  no 

cause  why 
My  constant  friend   Pithias  for  Damon's  sake  should 
die. 

93  or]   ere,  2d  edit. 

3*  Mil  neck  is  so  shorte  that  thou  wilt  never  have  honestie  in  striking 
of  this  head.']  i.  e.  thou  wilt  derive  no  credit  from  striking  off  a  head 
so  disadvantageously  placed  for  the  purpose  of  decollation.  Hnn- 
netete,  Fr.  antiently  signified  fame  or  refutation  in  the  dextrous 
execution  of  any  undertaking,  whether  honourable  or  the  contrary. 
Honesty  seems  here  to  be  used  with  the  French  meaning.     S. 

In  this  instance  the  Author  appears  to  have  had  before  him  the 
speech  which  Sir  Thomas  More  made  at  his  execution.  Hall,  in 
his  Chronicle  tempore  Henry  VIII.  p-  226,  says,  "  Also  thehang- 
"  man  kneled  doun  to  him  askyng  him  forgevenes  of  his  death  (as 
"  the  manner  is),  to  whom  he  sayed  I  forgeve  thee,  but  I  promise 
"  thee  that  thou  shalt  never  have  honestie  of  the  strykyng  of  my 
"  head,  my  neche  is  so  short." 


256  DAMON'   AND   PITH  I  AS. 


Alas,  he  is  but  young,  he  may  do  good  to  many. 

Thou  cowarde  minister,  why  doest  thou  not  let  mee 
die? 
Gronno.  My  hand  with  soden  feare  quivereth. 
Pithias.  O  noble  kinj^e,  shewe  mercy  upon  Damon, 

let  Pithias  die. 
Dionisius.  Stay  Gronno  my  flesh  trembleth.     Eubu- 
lus,  what  shall  I  doo  ? 

Were  there  ever  such  frindes  on  earth  as  were  these 
tv;o  ? 

What  harte  is  so  cruell  that  would  devide  them  asun- 
der? 

O  noble  friendship,  I  must  yeld  ;  at  thy  force  I  wonder. 

My  hart  this  rare  frindship,  hath  pearst  to  the  roote, 

And  quenched   all  my  fury  :  this   sight  hath  brought 
this  about. 

Which  thy  grave  coansell,  Eubulus,  and  learned  per- 
swasion  could  never  doo. 

O  noble  gentlemen,  the  immortal  Gods  above 

Hath  made  you  play  this  tragidie,  I  think,  for  my  be- 
hove : 

Before  this  day  I  never  knew  what  perfect  friendship 
ment. 

My  cruell  mind  to  bloody  deedes  was  full  and  wholly 
bente  : 

My  feareful  life  I  thought  with  terrour  to  defende, 

But  now  I  see  there  is  no  garde  unto  a  faithfuU  friend. 

Which  wyll  not  spare  his  lyfe  at  time  of  present  neede: 

0  happie  kinges  who  in*  your  courtes  have  two  such 

frinds  indeed ! 

1  honour  friendship  now,  which  that  you  may  playnly 

see, 
Damon,  have  thou  thy  lyfe,  from  death  I  pardon  thee  ; 
For  which  good  tourne,  I  crave  this  honour  doe  me 

lend, 
Oh  frindly  hart,  let  me  linke  with  you,  to  you  -^^  make 

me  the  thirde  friende. 

*  The  two  old  copies  have  it 

"  O  happie  kinges  witlim  your  courtes,"  &c.      C 
9*  to  you]  two  to,  2(1  edit. 


DAMON   AXD  PITHIAS.  25^ 


My  courte  is  yours  ;  dwell  here  with  mee,  by  my  com- 
mission large, 

Myself,  my  realme,  my  welth,  my  health,  I  commit  to 
your  charge  : 

Make  me   a  thirde  friend,  more  shall  I  joye  in  {.hat 
thing. 

Then  to  be  called  as  I  am,  Dionisius  the  mightiekinge. 
Damon.  O  mightie  king,  first  for  my  lyfe  most  hum- 
ble thankes  I  geve, 

And  next,  I    prayse  the  immortall  Gods  that  did  your 
liarte  so  raeve, 

That  you  would  have  respect  to  friendships  heavenly 
lore, 

Forseing  wel  he  need  not  feare  which  hath  true  friends 
in  store. 

For  my  part,  most  noble  king,  as  a  third  frind,  welcom 
to  our  friendly  societie  ; 

But  you  must  forget  you  ar  a  king,  for  frindship  stands 
in  tru  equalitie. 
Dionisius.  Unequall  though  I  be  in  great  possessions. 

Yet  full  equall  shall  you  finde  me  in  my  changed  con- 
ditions. 

Tirrannie,  flatterie,  oppression,  loe,  hear  I  cast  away ; 

Justice,  truth,  love,  frindship,  shall  be  my  joy: 

True  friendship  wyl  I  honour  unto  my  lives  end  ; 

My  greatest  glorie  shall  be  to  be  counted  a  perfect 
friende. 
Pithias.  For  this  your  deede,  most  noble  king,  the 
Gods  ad'  ance  your  name, 

And  since  to  friendship's  lore   you    list  your  princely 
harte  to  frame, 

With  joyfull  hart,  O  kinge,  most  wellcome  now  to  me. 

With  you  wyll  I  knit  the  perfect  knot  of  amitie  : 

Wherein  I  shall  enstruct  you  so,  and  Damon  here  your 
friend, 

That  you  may  know  of  amitie  the  mighty  force,  and 
eke  the  joyful  end : 

And  how  that  kinges  doo  stand  uppon  a  fickle  ground, 

Within  whose  realme  at  time  of  need  no  faithful!  friends 
are  found e. 


358  DAMON  AND   PITHIAS. 

Dionisius.  Your    instruction  wyll  I  folow;    to  you 
myself  I  doo  commite. 
Eubulus,  make  haste  to  set  new  apparell,  fitte 
For  my  new  friends. 

Eubulus.  I  go  with  joyful  hart.     O  happie  day ! 

[Exit. 
Gronno.  I  am  glad  to  heare  this  word.  Though  their 
lives  they  doo  not  leese, 
It  is  no  reason  ^®  the  hangman  should  lose  his  fees  : 
These  are  mine,  I  am  gone  with  a  trise.  [Exit. 

Here  entreth  Eubulus  with  new  garmentes. 
Dionisius.  Put  on  these  garmentes  now ;  goe  in  with 

me,  the  jewelles  of  my  court. 
Damon  and  Pithias.  We  go  with  joyfuU  harts. 
Stephano.  Oh,  Damon,  my  deare  master,  in  all  this 

joy  remember  me. 
Dionisius.  My  friend  Damon,  he  asketh  reason. 
Damon.  Stephano,  for  thy  good  service  be  thou  free. 

[Exeunt  Dion.* 
Stephano.    0    most   happie,    pleasant,  joyfull,    and 
triumphant  day  ! 
Poore  Stephano  now  shall  live  in  continuall  joy : 
Vive  leroy,mth  Damon  and  Pithias,  in  perfect  amitie. 
Vive  tu  Stephano,  in  thy  pleasant  liberalitie  : 
Wherein   I  joy  as  much  as  he  that  hath  a  conquest 

wonne, 
I  am  a  free  man,  none  so  mery  as  I  now  under  the 

Sonne. 
Farewel  my  lords,  nowe  the  Gods  graunt  you  al  the 

som  of  perfect  amitie, 
And  me  longe  to  enjoy  my  longe  desired  libertie.  [F.xit. 

Here  entreth  Eubulus  heatijng  Carisophus. 
Away  villaine  !  away,  you  flatringe  parasite ! 
Away  the  plague  of  this  courte :  thy  filed  tongue,  that 
forged  lies, 


96  not  reasoW]  no  reason,  1st  edit. 

*  This  direction  means   that  Dionisius,  Damon,  Pithias,  and  all 
others  go  out,  excepting  Stephano.     C. 


DAMON  AND  PITHIAS.  259 


No  more  here  shall  doo  hurt:  away,  false  sicophant ! 

wilt  thou  not? 
Carisophus.  I  am  gone,  sir,  seeing  it  is  the  kinges 

pleasure. 
Why  whyp  ye   me  alone  ?  a  plague  take  Damon  and 

Pithias,  since  they  came  hither 
I  am  driven  to  seeke  releefe  abrod,  alas !  I  know  not 

whither. 
Yet,  Eubulus,  though  I  be  gone,  hereafter  time  shall 

trie, 
There  shall  be  found  even  in  this  court  as  great  flat- 
terers as  I. 
Well,  for  a  while  I  wyll  forgo  the  court,  though  to  my 

great  payne: 
I  doubt  not  but  to  spie  a  time  when  I  may  creepe  in 

againe.  [Exit. 

Eubulus.  The  serpent  that  eates  men  alive,  flattery, 

with  all  her  broode. 
Is  whipte  away  in  princes  courtes,  whiche  yet  did  never 

good. 
What  force,  what  mighty  power  true  friendship  may 

possesse, 
To  all  the  worlde,  Dionisius*  courte  now  playnly  doth 

expresse ; 
Who  since  to  faithful!  friendes  he  gave  his  willyng  eare, 
Most  safely  sitteth  in  his  seate,  and  sleepes  devoid  of 

feare. 
Pourged  is  the  court  of  vice,  since  friendship  entred  in, 
Tirannie  quailes,  he  studieth  now  with  love  eche  hart 

to  win : 
Vertue  is  had  in  price,  and  hath  his  just  rewarde; 
And  painted  speache,  that  gloseth  for  gayne,  from  gifts 

is  quite  debard. 
One  loveth  another  now  for  vertue,  not  for  gayne; 
Where  vertue  doth  not  knit  the  knot,  there  friendship 

cannot  raigne ; 
Without  the  whiche,  no  house,  no  land,  ne  kingdome 

can  endure. 
As  necessarie  for  man's  lyfe,  as  water,  ayre,  and  fier, 


260  DAMON  AND  PITHIAS. 


Which  frameth  the  minde  of  man,  all  honest  thinges 
to  doo : 

Unhonest  thinges  friendshippe  ne  craveth,  ne  yet  con- 
sents thereto. 

In  wealth  a  double  joye,  in  woe  a  present  stay, 

A  sweete  compagnion  in  each  state  true  friendship  is 
alway : 

A  sure  defence  for  kinges,  a  perfect  trustie  bande, 

A  force  to  assayle,  a  shield  to  defende  the  enemies 
cruell  hande ; 

A  rare,  and  yet  the  greatest  gift  that  God  can  geve  to 


man 


So  rare,  that  scarce  four  couple  of  faithfull  frends  have 

ben  since  the  worlde  began. 
A  gift  so  strange,  and  of  such  price,  I  wish  all  kyngs 

to  have ; 
But  chiefely  yet,  as  duetie  bindeth,  I  humbly  crave, 
True  friendship  and  true  friendes,  full  fraught  with 

constant  faith, 
The  gever  of  friends,  the  Lord,  grant  her,  most  noble 

Queene  Elizabeth. 


DAMON  AND   PITHIAS.  261 


THE  LAST  SONGE. 

The  strongest  garde  that  kynges  can  have, 
Are  constant  friends  their  state  to  save  : 
True  friendes  are  constant  both  in  word  and  deede, 
Truefriendes  are  present,  arid  helpe  at  each  neede: 
True  friendes  talke  truely,  they  g  lose  for  no  gayne, 
When  treasure  consiimeth,  true  frindes  wyll  remayne: 
True  frindes  for  their  tru  prince  refuseth  7tot  their  death : 
The  Lord  graunt  her  such  frindes,  most  noble   Queene 
Elizabeth. 

Longe  may  she  governe  in  honour  and  wealth, 
Voyde  of  all  sicknesse,  in  most  perfect  health: 
Which  health  to  prolonge,  as  true  friends  require, 
God  graunt  she  may  have  her  owne  hartes  desire: 
Which  friendes  wyll  defend  with  most  stedfast  faith, 
The  Lorde  graunt  her  such  friendes,  most  noble  Queene 
Elizabeth, 


FINIS. 


262 


EDITIONS. 

(1.)  "  The  excellent  Comedieof  two  the  moste  faith- 
"  fullest  Freendes  Damon  and  Pithias.  Newly  im- 
"  printed  as  the  same  was  shewed  before  the  Queenes 
"  Majestie,  by  the  Children  of  her  Graces  Chappell, 
"  except  the  Prologue,  that  is  somewhat  altered  for  the 
"  proper  use  of  them  that  hereafter  shall  have  occasion 
**  to  plaie  it  either  in  Private  or  open  Audience.  Made 
"  by  Maister  Edwards,  then  beynge  Maister  of  the 
"  Children  1571.  Imprinted  at  London,  in  Fleetelane, 
"  by  Richarde  Johnes,  and  are  to  be  solde  at  his  Shop 
"  joyning  to  the  Southwest  doore  of  Panic's  Churche." 
4to.  Black  Letter. 

(2.)  Another  Edition  in  4to,  B.  L.  1582.*  Both  in 
Mr.  Garrick's  Collection. 


*  The  following  imprint  is  the  only  variation  in  the  titles  of  the 
two  copies.  "  Imprinted  at  London,  by  Richarde  Jones  :  dwelling 
"  neere  untoHolbome  Bridge,  over  against  the  syne  of  the  Faulcon^ 
"  Anno  1582."     C. 


NEW   CUSTOME 


I  HAVE  not  been  able  lo  discover  who  was  the  Author 
of  this  Piece.  But  I  think  it  is  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable of  our  ancient  Moralities,  as  it  was  wrote 
purposely  to  vindicate  and  promote  the  Reformation. 
It  was  printed  in  157':^,  and  contrived  so  that  four 
people  might  act  it:  this  was  frequently  done, as  1  have 
observed  in  the  Preface,  for  the  convenience  of  such  as 
were  disposed  to  divert  or  improve  themselves,  by 
representing  these  kinds  of  Entertainments  in  their  own 
houses.  This,  and  God's  Promises  by  Bishop  Bale, 
will  serve  as  specimens  of  the  ancient  Mysteries  and 
Moralities. 


THE   PLAYERS  NAMES  IN  TlilS  ENTERlude 
BE  THESE. 


THE  PROLOGUE. 
Perverse  Doctrine,  and  old  popishe  Priest, 
Ignoraunce,  an  other,  but  elder. 
New  Custome,  a  Minister. 
Light  of  the  Gospell,  a  Minister. 
Hypocrisie,  an  olde  Woman. 
Creweltie,  a  Ruffier^. 
Avarice,  a  Ruffler. 
Edification,  a  Sage. 
AssuRAUNCE,  a  Vertue. 
GoDDEs  Felicitie,  a  Sage. 

FOWER  MAY  PLAY  THIS  ENTERLUDE. 

,   _  Justome. 

1   Perverse  Doctrine.      ^ 


i  New  Gusto 
\  Avarice. 
(  Assurance. 

,„ 


ght  of  the  Gos- 
i  Ignoraunce.  V      pell. 

2^  Hypocrisie,  4<^  Creweltie. 

(^and  Edification.  JGoddes  felicitie. 

^The  Prologue. 

1  Creweltie  a  Ruffier.']  i.  e.  a  cheating  bully,  so  called  in  several 
Acts  of  Parliament  during  the  reign  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth.     S, 


THE  PROLOGUE. 


Jl  thinges  he  not  soe  as  in  sight  they  doe  seeme. 
What  so  ever  they  resemble,  or  what  ever  men  deeme. 
For  if  our  senses  in  their  oivne  objects  ns  do  fayle 
Sometimes,  then  our  judgemente  shall  but  little  availe 
In  some  thinges,  as  such,  where  doubt  geveth  deniall 
Of  them  in  the  best  wise  to  make  any  triall. 
Which  sayinge  is  evident,  as  well  shall  appeare 
In  this  little  Enterlude  whiche  we  present  heare  ; 
Whereby  we  may  learn  how  grossly  vje  erre, 
Taking  one  thinge  for  another,  which  differ  sofarre 
As  good  dothefrom  badde.     Example  therefore 
You  may  take  by  these  persons  if  you  marke  no  more. 
For  the  primitive  constitution,  whiche  ivasfyrst  appointed 
Even  by  God  himself  and  by  Christ  his  annoynted ; 
Confirmed  by  tK  appostles,  and  of  great  antlquitie  : 
See  howe  it  is  perverted  by  manners  wicked  iniquitie, 
To  he  called  newe  Custome,  or  newe  Constiiucion, 
Surely  a  name  of  to  much  ungodly  abusion. 
Which  our  author  indiff'erently  scanninge  in  his  minde. 
In  his  simple  opinion  this  cause  hee  dothfinde; 
That  by  reason  of  ignorance  which  beareth  great  swaie, 
And  also  stubberne  doctrine,  which  shutteth  up  the  waie 
To  all  good  instruction,  and  knowledge  of  right : 
No  marvell  it  was,  though  of  the  trueth  we  were  igno- 

raunt  quight. 
F'or  truely  in  suche  a  case,  the  matter  was  but  small. 
To  make  the  ignorant  sowle  to  credite  them  all. 
What  so  ever  they  saide^  were  it  trueth  or  a  lye. 
For  no  man  able  was  then  to  prove  them  the  contrarie. 
Wherefore  their  ownefansies  they  sette  in  great  prise, 
Neglectinge  the  trewe  ivaye,  like  menfarre  unwise. 


268 

Making  semblant  of  antiquitie  in  all  that  they  didy 

lo  fh'  intent  that  their  subtiltie  by  suche  meanes  might 

be  hid. 
Newe  Cmtome  also  hath  he  named  this  matter  veriliej 
In  consideration  that  the  people  so  speaketh  commonlie, 
Confuting  the  same  by  reasons  most  manifest, 
Whiche  in  consequent  order  of  talke  are  exprest. 
This  sence  hath  our  Author  followed  herein,  as  we  saide. 
For  other  meaning,  moreover  hee  icill  not  have  it  denaide, 
But  diverse  may  invent  muche  distant  from  this, 
Whiche  in  no  wise  he  will  have  prejudiciall  to  his. 
Nor  his  unto  theirs,  whatsoever  they  bee, 
For  many  heades,  many  wittes,  wee  doo  plainely  see, 
Onely  hee  desireth  this  of  the  worshipfull  audience. 
To  take  in  good  parte  ivithout  al  manner  oj^ence. 
Whatsoever  shall  be  spoken,  marking  the  intenty 
Interpreting  it  no  otherwise  but  as  it  was  ment. 
And  for  us,  if  of  pacience  you  list  to  attende. 
Wee  are  readie  to  declare  you  the  matter  to  the  ende. 

Finis  Prologi. 


NEW    CUSTOME. 


ACTUS  I.     SCENA  I. 

Perverse  Doctrine  and  Ignorance  enter. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Tr  is  even  so  in  deede,  the  worlde 

was  never  in  so  evyll  a  state. 
But  this  is  no  time  for  us  of  these  matters  to  debate. 
It  were  good  wee  invented  some  politike  waie 
Our  matters  to  addresse  in  good  orderly  staie. 
And  for  us,  reason  would  we  loked  to  ourselves. 
Do  you  not  see  howe  these  newe  fangled  pratling  elfes 
Prinke  up  so  pertly  of  late  in  every  place, 
And  go  about  us  auncients  flatly  to  deface  ? 
As  who  shoulde  say  in  shorte  time,  as  we)'  learned  as 

wee, 
As  wise  to  the  worlde,  as  good  they  mighte  accomptid 

bee, 
Naye,  naye,  if  many  yeers  and  graie  heares  do  knowe 

no  more, 
But  that  every  pevishe  boye  hath  even  as  muche  witte 

in  store : 
By  the  masse  then  have  I  lyved  to  long,  and  I  would 

I  were  dead. 
If  I  have  not  more  knoweledge  then  a  thousande  of 

them  in  my  head, 
For  how  should  they  have  learning  that  were  borne 

but  even  now  ? 
As  fit  a  sighte  it  were  to  see  a  goose  shodde,  or  a 

sadled  cowe, 
As  to  hear  the  pratlinge  of  any  soche  Jack  Strawe. 
For  when  hee  hath  all  done  I  compte  him  but  a  very 

dawe. 


f 


270  NEW   CUSTOME.  [aCT  I. 


As  in  London  not  longe  since,  you  wot  well  where, 
They  rang  to  a  Sermon,  and  we  chaunced  to  be  there. 
Up  start  the  preacher,  I  thinke  not  past  twenty  yeeres 

olde, 
With  a  sounding  voyce,  and  audacitie  bolde. 
And  beganne  to  revile  at    the   hohe  sacrament,  and 

transubstanciation. 
I  never  hearde  one  knave  or  other  make  suche  a  decla- 
ration : 
But,  if  I  had  had  the  boye  in  a  convenient  place, 
With    a  good  rodde    or  twain   not  past   one  howre's 

space. 
I  woulde  so  have  scourged  my  marchant'^,   that  his 

breeche  should  ake, 
So  longe  as  it  is  since  that  he  those  woordes  spake. 
What,  younge  men  to  be  medlers  in  Divinitie  ?  it  is  a 

godly  sight ! 
Yet  therein  novve  almost  is  every  boye's  delight, 
No  brooke    nowe   in  their  handes,    but  all  scripture, 

scripture, 
Eyther  the  whole   Bible,  or  the  new  Testament,  you 

may  be  sure. 
The  newe  Testament  for  them  ?  and  then  to  for  cowle 

my  dogge  ^. 
This  is  the  olde  proverbe,  to  cast  perles  to  an  hogge. 

2  my  rnarchant]  Merchant  vas  antiently  used  as  we  now  use  the 
word  chap.     See  Note  on  Brnneo  and  JuUet,  A.  2.  S.  4.    S. 

'  —  a7}d  then  to  for  cowle  my  dogge]  Coule  or  rather  coll,  I  sup- 
pose to  be  the  name  of  the  dog.     S. 

Cojile-  my  dog,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  means  ptit  a  cowle  or  hood 
on  a  dog,  and  he  will  be  as  learned  as  a  frier  :  the  contempt  into 
which  the  order  had  at  this  period  fallen  will  at  least  countenance 
the  explanation,  if  it  should  not  be  thought  sufficient  to  prove  it.  1 
once  was  of  opinion,  that  there  might  be  an  allusion  to  the  case  of 
one  Collins  a  crazy  man,  who  seeing  a  priest  bold  up  the  host  over 
his  head,  lifted  up  a  dog  in  the  same  manner,  for  which  both  he 
ajid  the  animal  were  burnt  in  1538.  See  Foxe,  vol.  II.  436. 

My  conjecture  requires  a  little  explanation.  The  speaker  means 
to  say,  "  If  the  new  testament  is  fit  for  the  use  of  boys,  so  like- 
wise  is  it  adapted  equally  to  the  conception  of  coll  my  dog.  The 
one  will  understand  and  make  a  proper  use  of  it  as  soon  as  the 
other."     S. 


SC.  I.]  NEW  CUSTOME.  271 


Geve  them  that  whiche  is  meete  for  them,  a  racket  and 

a  ball, 
Or  some  other  trifle  to  busie  their  heades  with  all : 
Playinge  atcoytes  or  nine  hooles'*,  or  shooting  at  buttes, 
There  let  them  be  a   goddes  name,  til  their  hartes  ake 

and  their  giittes. 
Let  us  alone  with  divinitie,  which  are  of  ryper  age. 
Youth  is  rashe,  they  say,  but  olde  men  hath  the  know- 
ledge. 
For  while  they  reade  they  know   not  what,  they  omit 

the  veritie. 
And  that  is  nowe  the  cause  so  many  fall  into  heresie, 
Every  man   hath  his  owne  way,  vsome  that,  and  some 

this, 
It  wolde  almost  for  anger  surreverence  ^  make  a  man 

to  pisse, 
To  heare  what  they  talke  of  in  open  communication, 
Surely   I  feare  me.   Ignorance,  this   geare  wyl  make 
some  desolation. 
Ignoraunce.  I  feare  the  same  also,  but  as  towching 
that  wherof  you  speake  full  well, 
They  have  revoked  diverse  olde  heresies  out  of  hell. 
As  against  transubstantiation,  purgatory,  and  the  masse, 
And  say  that  by  scripture  they  can   not  be  brought  to 

passe. 
But  that  whiche  ever  hath  ben   a  most  trewe  and  con- 
stant opinion, 
And  defended  also  hitherto  by  all  of  our  religion. 
That  I,  Ignorance,  am  the  mother  of  true  devotion, 
And  Knowle'dge  the  auctour  of  the  contrarie  affection : 
They  denie  it  so  stoutely  as  thoughe  it  were  not  so ; 
But  this  hath  ben  beleft  many  an  hundred  yeere  ago. 
Wherefore  it  greveth  mee  not  a  lyttle  that  my  case 

should  so  stande, 
Thus  to  be  disproved  at  every  pratler's  hande. 

*  Piayinge  at  coytes  or  nine  hooles.']  By  the  Stat.  S3  Hen.  VIII.  c. 
9.  s.  16.  a  penalty  is  imposed  on  certain  persons  therein  mentioned, 
who  should  play  at  the  tables,  tennis,  dice,  cards,  bowls,  clash, 
coyting,  legating,  or  other  unlawful  game.  Coytes  are  the  same  as 
quoits. 

5  surreverence']  Perhaps  a  contraction  of  save  your  reverence.     S. 


272  NEW  CUSTOME.  ACT  I. 


Perverse  Doctrine,  Yea,  doth  ?  then  the  more  un- 

wiseman  you,  as  I  trovve, 
For  they  say  as  mnche  by  me,  as  you  well  do  kiiowe. 
And  shall  I  then  go  vexe  my  selfe  at  theyr  talke? 
No,  let  them   speake  so   longe  as  their  tongues  can 

walke. 
They  shall  not  greve  raee,  for  why  ?  in  very  south 
It  were    foUie   to    endeavour   to   stop   every    manne's 

mouth. 
They  have  brought  in  one,  a  younge  upstart  ladde  as 

it  appeares, 
I  am  sure  he  hath  not  ben  in  the  realme  very  many 

yeares. 
With  a  gathered  frocke,  a  powlde  head  and  a  broade 

hatte. 
An  unshaved  bearde,  a  pale  face,  and  hea  teacheth 

that 
All  our  doings  are  naught,  and  hath  ben  many  a  day. 
Hee  disaloweth  our  ceremonies  and  rites,  and  teacheth 

an  other  way 
To  serve  God,  then  that  whiche  wee  do  use. 
And  goeth  about  the  people's  myndes  to  seduce. 
It  is  a  pestilent  knave,  hee  wyll  have  priestes  no  corner 

cappes  to  weare^', 
Surplices  are  superstition,  beades,   paxes,  and  suche 

other  geare, 

*  — hee  wyll  have  priestes  no  corner  cappes  to  wearel  Foxe,  in  the 
third  volume  of  his  Acts  and  Monuments,  p.  131,  says,  "  Over 
"  and  besides  divers  others  things  touching  M.  Rogers,  this  is  not 
"  to  be  forgotten,  how,  in  the  daies  of  King  of  Edward  the  Sixth, 
"  there  was  a  controversie  among  the  Bishops  and  Clergie/or  wear- 
"  i»g  of  priests  caps,  and  other  attyrebelongingto  that  order.  Master 
"  Rogers  being  one  of  that  number  whicli  never  went  otherwise 
"  than  in  a  round  cap  during  all  the  time  of  King  Edward,  affirmed 
*'  that  he  would  not  agree  to  that  decreement  of  uniformitie, 
"  but  upon  this  condition,  that  if  they  would  needs  have  such  an 
"  uniformitie  of  wearing  the  cap,  tippet,  &c.  then  it  should  be  de- 
"  creed  withall,  that  the  papists  for  a  difference  betwixt  them  and 
"  others  should  be  constrained  to  weare  upon  their  sleeves  a  chalice 
"  with  an  host  upon  it.  Whereunto  if  they  would  consent,  he 
"  would  agi-ee  to  the  other,  otherwise  he  would  not  he  said  con- 
"  sent  to  the  setting  forth  of  the  same,  nor  ever  weare  the  cap ; 
"  nor  indeed  he  n^ver  did." 


SC.  I.]  NEW  CUSTOM E;  273 


Crosses,  belles,  candells,  oyie,  bran,  salt,  spettle,  and 

incense. 
With  sensing  and  singing,  he  accomptes  not  worth  iii 

half  pense, 
And  cries  out  on  them  all,  if  to  repete  them  I  wist, 
Suche  holy  thinges  wherein  our  religion  doth  consist: 
But   hee    commaundes  the   service   in   English   to  be 

readde, 
And  for  the   Holy  Legended,  the  Bible  too  put  in  his 

steadde. 
Every  man  to  looke  thereon  at  his  list  and  pleasure. 
Every  man  to  studie  divinitie  at  his  convenient  leasure ; 
With  a  thousand  newe  guises  more,  you   know  as  well 

as  I. 
And  to  term  him  by  his  right  name,  if  I  should  not  lie, 
It  is  new  Custome,  for  so  they  do  him  call, 
Both  our  sister  Hipocrisie,  Superstition,  Idolatrie  and  all. 
And  truely   me  thinketh,  they  do  justly    and   wisely 

therein, 
Since  hee  is  so  divers,  and  so  lately  crept  in. 

Ignoraunce.  So  they  call  him  indeede,  you  have  saide 

ryght  well. 
Because  he  came  newely  from  the  devyll  of  hell, 
New  Custome,   quoth   you  ?  now  a  vengeance  of  his 

newe  nose. 
For  bringing  in  any  suche  unaccuston-ied  glose ; 
For  hee  hath   seduced  the  people  by  mightie   greate 

flockes, 
Bodie  of  God,  it  were  good  to   set  the  knave  in   the 

stockes. 
Or  elles  to  whyp  him  for  an  exaumple  to  all  roges  as 

hee. 
How  they  the  authors  of  newe  heresies  bee. 
Or  henceforth  do  attempt  any  such  strange  devise. 
Let  him  keepe  himselfe  from  my  handes,  if  he  be  wyse. 
If  ever  I  may  take  him  within  my  rayne. 
He  is  sure  to  have  whipping  theere  ^  for  his  payne. 

7  f/ie  Holy  Legeiide]  I  suppose  the  Legenda  Aurea,  the  Golden  Le- 
gend of  Jacobus  de  Voragine.     S. 

«  theere]  So  the  4to.   I  think  we  should  read  cheere. 
VOL.  r.  T 


574  NEW  CUSTOME.  [ACT.   I 


For  hee  doth  muche  harme  in  cache  phice  throug-hout 

the  lande  : 
Wherefore,    Perverse    Doctrine,    heere    nedeth    your 

hande  : 
I  meane,  that  ye  be  dihgent  in  any  case. 
If  ye  fortune  to  come  where  New  Custoiue  is  in  pUice, 
So  to  use  the  villaine,  you  know  what  I  meane. 
That  in  all  povntes  you  may  discredite  him  cleane  : 
And  when  hee  beginnes  of  any  thyng-e  for  to  clatter, 
Of  any  controversie  of  learnyng,  or  divinitie  matter. 
So  to  cling  fast  unto  every  manne's  thought. 
That  his  wordes  may  seeme  heresie,  and  his   doinges 
but  nought. 
Perverse  Docirine,  Tushe,  let  me  alone  with   that, 
for  1  have  not  so  lyttle  wit. 
But  I  have  practised  this  alreadie,  and  minde  also  to 

do  it. 
Yet  a  further  devise  I  have,  I  think,  not  amisse. 
Hearken  to  mee,  Ignorance,  for  the  matter  is  this  : 
For  the  better  accomplishing  our  subtiltie  pretended, 
It  were  expedient  that  bothe  our  names  were  amended  ; 
Ignorance  shall  be  Simplicitie,  for  that  comes  very  nie  ; 
And    for  Perverse   Doctrine   I   will  be  called  Souude 

Doctrine,  I. 
And  nowe  that  wee  are  both  in  snche  sorte  named, 
Wee  may  goe  in  any  place  and  never  he  blamed. 
See  then  you  remembre  your  name,  sir,  Simplicitie, 
And  mee  at  every  worde  Sounde  doctrine  to  be; 
Beware  of  tripping,  but  look  in  minde  that  you  beare 
Your  fayned  name,  and  what  before  you  weare. 
But  who  is  this  that  hitherwarde  doth  walke? 
Let  us  stande  still  to  heare  what  he  wyll  talke. 


ACTUS  I.     SCENA  II. 

New  Custome  eiitreth  alone. 
New  Custome.  When  I  consider  the  auncient  times 
before. 
That  have  ben  these  ev^rht  hundred  vceres  and  more. 


I 


SC.  II.]  NEW  CUSTOME.  275 


And  those  conferre  with  these  our  later  dayes, 

My  mind  do  these  displease  a  thousand  waies. 

For  sure  hee  that  hath  bothe  perceaved  aright, 

Wyll  say  they  differ  as  darkenes  dothe  from  light. 

For  then  playne-deallng;  beare  away  the  price, 

All  thing-es  were  ruled  by  men  of  good  advise. 

Conscience  prevayled  miiche,  even  every  where, 

No  man  deceived  his  neybour,  and  eke  a  thing  full  rare 

It  was  to  finde  a  man  you  might  not  trust : 

But  looke  what  once  they  promised,  they  did  that  well 

and  just. 
If  neighbours  were  at  variance  ihey  ran  not  streight  to 

lawe, 
Daiesmen  9  tooke  up  the  matter,  and  cost  them  not  a 

strawe, 
Suche  delight  they  had  to  kyll  debate  and  strife; 
And, surely  even  in  those  dayes  was  there  more  godlier 

life : 
Howbeit  men  of  all  ages  are  wonted  to  dispraise 
The  wickednesse  of  time  that  florished  at  their  daies, 
As  well  hee  may  discerne  who  for  that   but   lightly 

lookes 
In  every  leafe  almost  of  all  their  bookes; 
For  as  for  Christ  our  maister,   what  hee   thought  of 

Jewes, 
And  after  hym  th  apostles,  I  think  it  is  no  newes. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Harke,  Simplicitie,  hee  is   some 

preacher,  I  wyll  lay  my  srowne, 
He  raindeth  to  make  a  sermon  within  this  towne: 


9  Daiesmanl  i.  e.  umpires.     So  Spenser  : 

For  what  art  thou 

That  makst  thyself  his  daysmaii,  to  prolong 

The  vengeance  past  1 — Faerie  Queen.  S. 
A  dayes-man,  says  Ray,  in  his  Collection  of  Xorth  Country 
Words,  p.  25.  is  "  an  arbitrator,  an  umpire  or  judge.  For  as  Dr. 
"  Kammond  observes,  in  his  Annotation  on  Heb.  x.  25.  p.  752,  the 
"  word  day,  in  all  languages  and  idioms,  signifies  judgment.  So 
"  Man's  Day,  1  Cor.  iii.  13.  is  the  judgement  of  men.  So  diem  dicere 
"  in  Latin  is  to  implead." 


276  NEW  CUSTOME.  [aCT.  I. 


Hee  speaketh  honestly  yet,  but  surely  if  hee  rayle  at 

mee, 
I  may  not  abide  hira,  by  the  masse,  I  promise  thee. 
New  Custome.  Paule  to  the  Corinthians  plainelydoth 

tell 
That  their  behaviour  pleased  him  not  well. 
All  our  forefathers  likewise  have  ben  offended 
With  diverse  faultes  at  their  time,  that  might  have  ben 

amended. 
The  doctours  of  the  churche,  great  faulte  they  dyd 

fynde, 
In  that  men  lived  not  after  their  mynde : 
First  with  the  rulers  as  examples  of  sinne. 
Then  with  the  people  as  continuing  therin  : 
So  that  of  them  both  this  one  thing  they  thought, 
That  the  people  was  not  good,  but  the  rulers  were 

naught. 
But  in  comparison  of  this  time  of  miserie, 
In  those  daies  men  lyved  in  perfecte  felicitie. 
Saincte   Paule   prophecied    that   worse  tymes   should 

ensue, 
In  7wvissimis  vemeiit  qitidam,  saith  hee,  this  is  trewe, 
Folowinge  all  mischiefe,  ungodlinesse  and  evyll, 
Leaning  to  all  wickednesse  and  doctrine  of  the  devyll ; 
And  spake  hee  not  of  these  daies,  thinke  you,  I  praye? 
The  proofe  is  so  playne  that  no  man  can  denaye  : 
For  this  is  sure,  that  never  in  any  age  before, 
Naughtiness  and  sinne  hath  ben  practised  more, 
Or  halfe  so  muche,  or  at  all,  in  respecte  so  I  saye, 
As  is  nowe  (God  amende  all)  at  this  present  daye : 
Sinne  nowe  no  sinne,  faultes  no  faultes  a  whit, 
O  God,  seest  thou  this,  and  yet  wylt  suffer  hit? 
Surely  thy  mercie  is  great,  but  yet  our  sinnes  I  feare 
Are  so  great,  that  of  justice  with  them  thou  canst  not 

be  are. 
Adulterie  no  vice,  it  is  a  thinge  so  rife  '°, 
A  stale  jest  nowe,  to  lie  with  another  manue's  wyfe : 

'0  so  rife]  i  e.  so  common,  in  such  plenty.     S. 


SC.  II.]  NEW  CUSTOMS.  277 

For  what  is  that  but  dahaunce  ?     Covetousnesse  they 

call 
Good  husbandrie,   when  one  man  would  faine    have 

all. 
And  eke  alike  to  that  is  unmerciful  extorcion, 
A  sinne  in  sig^ht  of  God,  of  great  abhomination: 
For  pride,  that  is  now  a  grace  ;  for  rounde  about 
The  humble  sprited  is  termed  a  foole  or  a  lowte. 
Who  so  will  bee  so  drunken  that  he  scarsly  knoweth 

his  waye, 
Oh,  hee  is  a  good  fellowe,  so  now  a  daies  they  saye : 
Gluttonie  is  hospitalitie,  while  they  meate  and  drinke 

spill, 
Whiche  wou4d  relieve  diverse  whom  famine  doth  kill. 
As    for    all    charitable   deedes,    they    be    gone,  God 

knoweth  ; 
Some  pretende  lacke,  but  the  chiefe  cause  is  slowth, 
A  vice  most  outragiouse  of  all  others  sure, 
Right  hatefull  to  God,  and  contrarie  to  nature. 
Scarse  bloud  is  punished,  but  even  for  very  shame, 
So  make  they  of  murther  but  a  trifling  game. 
O  how  manie  examples  of  that  horrible  vice 
Do  dayly  among  us  nowe  spring  and  arise? 
But  ihankes  be  to  God  that  such  rulers  doth  sende, 
Whiche  earnestly  studie  that  fault  to  amende ; 
As  by  the  sharpe  punishement  of  that  wicked  crime 
Wee  may  see  that  committed  was  but  of  late  time. 
God  direct  their  heartes  they  may  alwaies  continue 
Suche  just  execution  on  sinne  to  ensue  ; 
So  shall  be  saved  the  life  of  many  a  man, 
And    God  wyll  withdrawe  his  sore  plagues  from  us 

than. 
Theft  is  but  pollicie,  perjurie  but  a  face, 
Suche  is  now  the  worlde,  so  farre  men  be  from  grace. 
But  what  shall  I  say  of  religion,  and  knowledge 
Of  God,  whiche  hath  ben  indifferent  in  cache  age 
Before  this  ?  howbeit  his  faltes  then  it  had, 
And  in  some  poyntes  then  was  culpable  and  bad. 
Surely  this  one  thinge  I  may  say  aright, 
God  hath  rejected  us  away  from  him  quight, 


278  NEW  CUSTOME.  [aCT  I. 


And  geven  tfs  up  whollie  unto  our  owne  thought, 

Utterly  to  destroy  us,  and  bring;  us  to  nought : 

For  do  they  not  foilowe  the  niventions  of  men  ? 

Looke  on  the  primitive  churche,  and  tell  mee  then 

Whether  they  served  God  in  this  same  wise, 

Or  whether  they  followed  any  other  guyse? 

For  since  Godde's  feare  decayed^  and  hypocrisie  crept 

in, 
In  hope  of  some  gaines  and  lucre  to  win, 
Crueltie  bare  a  stroke,  who  with  fagot  and  fier, 
Braught  all  thinges  to  passe  that  hee  did  desier; 
Next  avarice  spilt  all,  whiche  lest  it  should  be  spide, 
Hypocrisie  ensued  the  matter  to  hide. 
Then  brought  they  in  their  monsters,  their  masses,  their 

light. 
Their  torches  at  noone,  to  darken  our  sight : 
Their  Popes  and  their  pardones,  their  purgatories  for 

sowles. 
Their  smoking  of  the  church,  and  flinging  of  cooles. 
Igjwraintce.  Stay  yet  a  whyle,  and  let  us  heare  more 

communication. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  I  cannot,  by  godde's  sowle,  if  I 
might  have  all  this  nation. 
Shall  T  suffer  a  knave  thus  to  rayle  and  prate? 
Nay,  then  I  pray  God,  the  devyll  breake  my  pate. 
I  will  be  revenged,  or ''  hee  depart  away, 
Ah,  surrah,  you  have  made  a  feire  speake  heere  to-day. 
Do  you  looke  for  any  rewarde  for  your  deede  ? 
It  were  good  to  beate  thee  till  thy  head  bleede. 
Or  to  scourge  thee  welfavouredHe  at  a  carte's  taylo, 
To  teache  suche  an  horeson  to  blaspheme  and  rayle 
At  suche  hoiie  misteries,  and  matters  so  hie 
As  thou  speakest  of  nowe,  and  rayledst  at  so  latelie. 
New  Custome.  What  meane  ye,  sir,  or  to  whom  do 
you  speake? 
Art  you  minded  on  mee  your  anger  to  wreake, 
Whiche  have  not  offended,  as  farre  as  I  knowe  ? 

Perverse  Doctrine.  I  speak  to  thee,  knave,  thou  art 
madde  I  trowe; 

"  or'\  i.  e.  before. 
1 


SC.  I.]  NEW   CUSTOME.  279 


What  meanest  thou  to  raile  right  nowe  so  contemp- 
tuously 
At  the  chefest  secretes  of  all  divinitie  ? 

New  Custome.  Verilie  I  railed  not,  so  farre  as  I  can 
tell, 
I  spake,  but  advisedly,  I  knowe  very  well ; 
For  I  wyll  stand  to  it,  whatsoever  I  sayde. 

Perverse  Doctrine.  Wilt  thou  soe  ?  but  I  will  make 
the  well  apaide '% 
To  recant  thy  woordes,  I  holde  thee  a  pounde, 
Before  thou  departe  hence  out  of  this  grounde. 

New  Custome.  No,  that  shall  you  not  do,  if  I  die 

therefore. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Thou  shalt   see   anone,   go  too, 
prattle  no  more, 
But  tell  mee  th'  effect  of  the  woordes  whiche  were  sayde. 
New    Custome.  To   recite    them    agayn,    I    am   not 
afrayde : 
I  sayde  that  the  Masse,  and  suche  trumperie  as  that. 
Popery,  purgatorie,  pardons,  were  flatt 
Against  Godde's  woorde  and  primitive  constitution, 
Crept  in  through  covetousnesse  and  superstition, 
Of  late  yeeres,  through  blindnes,  and  men  of  no  know- 
ledge ; 
Even  suche  as  have  ben  in  every  age. 

Perverse   Doctrine.    Now,  preciouse   horeson,  thou 
hast  made  a  lie ; 
How  canst  thou  prove  that,  tell  me  by  and  by. 

New  Custome.  It  needeth  small  profe,  the  effect  doth 
appere. 
Neither  this  is  any  place  for  to  argue  here. 
And  as  for  my  saying  I  holde  the  negative, 
It  lyeth  you  upon  to  prove  the  affirmative  ; 
To  shewe  that  such  thinges  were  used  in  antiquitie, 
And  then  I  can  easely  prove  you  the  contrarie. 

Perverse  Doctrine.  Stand'st  thou  with  mee  on  schole 
poyntes  ?  dost  thou  so  indeede  ? 
Thou  hadst  best  to  prove  mee  whether  I  can  reede ; 

1-  loell  apaide]  well  content.     In  Psalm  kxxiii.  ver.  8.  we  have  : 
And  Assur  eke  is  well  apaid, 
With  them  in  league  to  be. 


280  NEW  CUSTOME.  [aCT  I. 


Thinkest  thou   I  have  no  logique,  in  deede  thinkest 

thou  soe  ? 
Yes,  prinkockes,  that  I  have  ;  for  fortie  yeares  ag-oe 
I  coulde  smatter  in  a.  Duns^^  pretelie;   I  do  not  jeste, 
Better  I  am  sure  thcMi  an  hundred  of  you,  v/hosoever  is 
the  best. 
New  Custome.  Trulie  I  beleve  you,  for  in  suche  fonde 
bookes 
You  spent  ideUie  your  time  and  weried  your  lookes : 
More  better  it  had  ben  in  bookes  of  hohe  scripture, 
Where  as  vertue  is  expressed,  and  religion  pure, 
To  have  passed  your  youth,  as  the  Bible  and  suche, 
Then  in  these  trifles  to  have  doited  so  muche ; 
Not  more  to  have  regarded  a  Duns  or  a  Questionist, 
Then  yon  would  the  woordes  of  the  holie  evangelist. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  What !    for  a  childe   to  meddle 

with  the  Bible  ? 
New  Custome.  Yea  sure,  more  better  then  so  to  be  idle. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Is  studie  then  idlenes?  that  is  a 

new  terme. 
New  Custome.  They  say  better  to  be  idle  then  to  do 

harme. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  What  harme  dothe  knowledge?  I 

pray  thee,  tell  mee. 
Neiv    Custome.  Knowledge  pufFeth   up,    in    Saincte 

Paule  you  may  see, 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Yee,  but  what  knowledge  meaneth 

hee?  tell  me  that. 
New  Custome.  Even  such  knowledge  as  vee  professe 
flat; 
For  the  truthe  and  the  gospell  you  have  in  contempt, 
And  foUowe  suche  toyes  as  your  selves  do  invent: 
Forsaking  Godde's  lawes,  and  th'  appostle's  institution. 
In  all  your  procedinges,  and  matters  of  religion. 

Perverse  Doctrine.  By  what  speakest  thou  that,  let 

me  here  thy  judgment? 
New  Custome.  Not  by  any  gesse,  but  by  that  whiche 
is  evident. 

'3  In  a  Duns]  i.  e.  in  the  theological  writings  of  Dims  Scotiis,  who 
obtained  the  title  of  Doctor  Subtilis.     S. 

See  also  Note  25  to  The  Revenger's  Tragedy,  vol.  IV. 


SC.   II.]  NEW  CUSTOME.  281 


As  for  the  scriptures,  you  have  aboHshed  cleane; 
New  fashions  you  have  constitute  in  religion  ;  agayne, 
Abuse  of  the  sacraments  then  hath  ben  tofore, 
Have  you  brought,  and  in  nombre  have  you  made  them 

more 
Then  Christ  ever  made  :  wherfore  shew  your  auctoritie, 
Or  els  have  you  done  to  the  churche  great  injurie. 
Th'  appostles  never  taught  your  transubstantiation 
Of  bread  into  fleshe,  or  any  suche  fashion  ; 
Howe  be  it  they  were  conversant  every  day  and  howre, 
And  received  that  sacrament  of  Christ  our  saviour. 
You  feigne  also  that  Peter  was  bishop  of  Rome, 
And  that  hee  first  instituted  the  seateof  your  Popedome  : 
But,  perverse  nation,  howe  dare  you  for  shame, 
Your  fansies  on  Christ,  and  th  appostles  to  frame? 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Marie   avaunt,  Jackesauce,  and 

pratling  knave, 
I  will  conjure  thy  cote  if  thou  leave  not  to  rave. 
With  all  my  harte,  and  a  vengeance,  come  up  and  be 

nought, 
I  see  wee  shall  have  an  heretike  of  thee,  as  I  thought. 
These  things  were  approved   or  thou  wast  born,  dost 

thou  not  see  ? 
And  shall  be  when  thou  art  hanged,  I  warrant  thee. 
New  Custome.  Ere  I  was  borne  !  nay  sure  that  is  not 

trewe, 
For  in  comparison  of  mee  they  be  but  newe. 

Perverse   Doctrine.  Of  thee !    ha,  ha,  ha !    what  of 

thee  ?  thou  art  mad. 
New  Custome.  Surely  in  my  sorte  I  am  both  sober 

and  sad. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Whie, how olde  art  thou?  tellmee, 

I  pray  thee  hartely. 
New  Custome.  Elder  than  you,  I  perceive. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  What,  older  than  I ! 
The  younge  knave,  by  the  masse,  not  fully  thirtie, 
Would  be  elder  than  I  that  am  above  sixtie ! 

New  Custome.  A  thousande  and  a  halfe,  that  surely 

is  my  age  : 
Ask  and  enquire  of  all  men  of  knowlage. 


282  NEW  CUSTOME.  [aCT 


Perverse  Doctrine.  A  thousand  yeares  2  godde's  pre- 
ciouse  sowle,  I  am  out  of  my  wittes; 
He    is   possessed   of  some   devyll,   or  of  some   evill 

sprites. 
Why  thou  art  a  young  knave  of  that  sorte,  I  saye, 
That  brought  into  this  realme  but  the  other  daye 
This  new  learning,  and  these  heresies,  and  such  other 

things  moe, 
With  strange  guises  invented  not  long  agoe* 
And  I  pray  thee  tell  me,  is  not  thy  name  New  Cus- 
tome? 
New  Cusiome.  Trevvly  so  I  am  called  of  some, 
As  of  suche  as  wante  both  witte  and  understanding, 
As  you  do  ncwe,  1  knowe  by  your  talking  : 
But  woe  be  to  those  that  make  no  distinction 
Betweene  many  thinges  of  diverse  condition  ; 
As  naught  to  be  good,  and  hotte  to  be  colde, 
And  old  to  be  newe,  and  new  to  be  olde. 
Wherefore  these  disceytea  you  dayly  invent, 
The  people  to  seduce  unto  your  advertisement, 
While  with  tales  you  assay,  and  with  lies  you  begyn 
The  truth  to  deface,  and  your  credite  to  wyn. 

Perverse  Doctrine.  What  is  thy  name,  then?  I  pray 

thee  make  declaration. 
New  Custome.  In  faith,  my  name  is  Primitive  Con- 
stitution. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Who  ?  who  ?   Praia  Constitutio  ? 
even  so  I  thought, 
I  wist  that  it  was  some  suche  thinge  of  nought  i*. 

*  The  original  copy  reads 

"  With  strange  guises  invented  7iow  long  agoe." 
but  the  sense  seems  to  require  the  negative,  which  former  editors 
substituted  for  now.     C. 

'*  aziche  thinge  of  nought.']     So  Hamlet,  "  The   king  is  a  iking  of 
"  nothing."     See  the  Notes  of  Dr.  Johnson,  Dr.  Farmer,  and  Mr. 
Steevens,  on  that  passage,  Edition  of  Shakspeare,  1778,  vol.  10, 
p.  336.     This  play  on  the  words  was  very  common. 
Again,  in  TJie  Humourous  Lieutenant,  A.    .  S.  6. 
"  Shall  then  that  thing  that  honours  thee 
"  How  miserable  a  thing  soever,  yet  a  thing  still, 
"  And,  tho'  a  thing  of  nothings  thy  thing  ever." 


SC.  II.]  NEW   CUSTOME.  283 


Like  lettuse  ^^,  like  lippes  ;  a  scab'd  horse  for  a  scald 
squire. 
New  Custome.  Primitive  Constitution  I  saide>  if  you 
heare, 
Suche  orders  as  in  the  primitive  churche  heretofore 
Were  used,  but  not  nowe,  the  more  pittie  therefore, 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Ah,  ah  !  in  good  time,  sir,  well 
might  you  fare,  Primitive  Constitution, 
That  is  your  trewe  name,  you  say,  without  all  delution. 
Primitive  Constitution  (quodes  stowe)  as  muche  as  my 

sleeve, 
The  devill  on  him  which  will  such  liers  beleeve; 
For  my  parte,  if  I  credite  such  an  hearie  mowle. 
The  fowle  fende  of  hell  fetche  mee,  bodie  and  sowle. 
New  Custome.  Trueth  can  not  prevaile  where  Igno- 
rance is  in  place. 
Ignoraunce.  Peace,  or  I  will  lay  my  beades  on  thie 
face. 
Hast  thou  nothing  to  raile  at  but  Ignorance,  I  trowe  ? 
New    Custome.    You    may   use    me    even    at    your 
pleasure,  I  know ; 
For  Perverse  Doctrine,  that  is  rooted  soe  fast, 
That  it  may  not  be  changed  at  no  heavenlie  blast, 
May  not  heare  the  contrarie,  but  beginneth  to  kicke, 
Like  a  jade  when  hee  feleth  the  spurre  for  to  pricke. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Yee  !  saist   thou   soe,  thou  mis- 
creant villaine  ? 
A   little    thing   would    make   mee    knocke    out   thy 

brayne. 
Hence  out  of  my  sight,  away,  packing,  trudge, 
Thou  detestable  heretike,  thou  caytife,  thou  drudge  ; 


"■s  Like  lettuse,  like  lippes.^  "  Similes  hahent  lahra  lactucas.  A. 
"  tliistle  is  a  sallet  for  an  ass's  mouth.  We  use  when  we  would 
"  signify  that  things  hajipen  to  people  which  are  suitable  to  them, 
"  or  which  they  deserve  :  as  when  a  dull  scholar  happens  to  a  stupid 
"  or  ignorant  master,  a  froward  wife  to  a  peevish  husband,  &c. 
"  Dignum  puteUa  operculum.  Like  priest,  like  people,  and  on  the 
*'  contrary.  These  Proverbs  are  always  taken  in  the  worst  sense. 
"  Tal  came,  tal  culteilo,  ItaL  LiJie  flesh,  like  knife."  Ray's 
Froverbs,  1742,  p.  130. 


284  NEW  CUSTOME,  [aCT   II. 


If  I  may  take  thee,  it  were  as  good  thou  weare  deade, 
For  even  with  this  portuse  '^  I  will  battre  thy  Ueade. 

[Exit. 
Thoughe  I  hang  therefore,  I  care  not,  I, 
So  I  be  revenged  on  a  slave  ere  I  die. 
Sacrament  of  God  !  who  hath  hearde  suche  a  knave  ? 
Who  after  hee  had  done  at  Ignorance  to  rave, 
Perverse  Doctrine  (quod  hee)  is  also  rooted  so  fast, 
That  hee  may  be  changed  by  no  heavenly  blast. 
No,    Godde's  sowle,   I  warrant  him,   1  will   see  him 

rotten, 
Before  that  my  doctrine  I  shall  have  forgotten  : 
Wherefore  it  behoveth  us  some  councell  to  take, 
Howe  wee  the  stronger  our  matters  may  make, 
i\gainstthe  surprise  of  this  newe  invasion, 
Begunne  of  late  by  this  strange  generation, 
Of  New  Custome  and  his  mates  '',  meaning  to  deface 
Our  anncient  rightes,  and  religion,  and  to  place 
Their  develishe  doctrine  the  Gospell,  and  soe 
Our  gaines  to  debate,  and  ourselves  to  undoe. 
I  thinke  it  best  therefore  that  our  sister  Hypocrisie 
Do  understand  fully  of  this  matter  by  and  by. 
Let  us  go  and  seeke  her,  the  case  for  to  shewe. 
That  wee  her  good  councell  may  spedely  knowe. 

Ignoraunce.  I  am  readie  ;  in  following  I  will  not  be 
slowe.  \_ExemLt. 

's  portusei]  Sometimes  written  portas,  or  portos,  i.  e.  breviary, 
Du  Cange,  iu  Portiforium,  "  Portuasses,  IMr.  Tyrwhitt  observes 
"  (Notes  on  Chaucer,  ver.  13061),  are  mentioned  amon;;  other 
"  prohibited  books  in  the  Stat.  3  and  4  Edw.  VI.  c.  10.  And,  in 
*'  the  Parliament  Roll  of  7  Edw.  IV.  n.  40.  there  is  a  petition,  that 
"  the  robbing  of— Porteous — Grayell,  Manuell,  &c.  should  be  made 
*'  felonie  without  clergy  ;  to  which  the  King  answered.  La  Roy 
"  s'avisera.'' 

The  portuse  is  mentioned  iu  Green's  llisiory  of  Fryer  Bacon  and 
Fryer  Bungay,  vol.  Vlll .  p.  200. 

*' I'ie  hamper  up  the  match, 

"  I'letake  my /jortore  forth,  and  wed  you  here." 

'*  mates.]     The  4io  reads  makes.     The  alteration  by  Mr.  Dddslcy, 

Makes  is  the  true  reading.  Hake  is  used  {or  mate  throughout  tho 
works  of  Goiter.  Shakspeare  likewise,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
employs  it  in  one  of  his  sonnets.     S. 


SC.   I.J  NEW  CUSTOME.  28^ 


ACTUS  II.     SCENA  I. 

Light  of  the  Gospell  and  New  Customs  enter. 

Light  of  the  Gospell.  Doubt  you  nothing  at  all,  for 
God  will  so  provide, 
Who  leaveth  not  his  elect  to  defende  and  to  guide ; 
That  where  ever  I  come  suche  grace  you  raay  finde, 
As  shall  in  each  poynte  content  well  your  minde, 
And  admit   that   they  call  you  New  Custome,  what 

then? 
Attribute  that  follie  to  the  ignorance  of  men, 
That  foUowe  their  fansies,  and  know  not  the  right. 
Well,  you  knowe  where  I  come  once,  the  light 
Of  the  Gospell,  whose  beames  do  glister  so  cleare, 
Then  Primitive  Constitution  in  each  place  you  appeare  ; 
And  as  else  where  you  have  ben,  so  do  not  mistrust 
But  in  this  place  hereafter  be  receved  you  must. 

Neiv  Custome.  According  to  your  nature,  so  do  you 
very  well 
To  put  mee  in  good  hope,  bright  light  of  the  gospell. 
And  seing  you  be  trewe,  I  may  in  no  wise 
Misdeeme  you  the  father  or  aucthour  of  lies: 
For  if  trust  to  the  gospell  do  purchase  perpetuance 
Of  life  unto  him  who  therein  hath  confidence, 
What  shall  the  light  doe  ?  whose  beames  be  so  bright. 
That  in  cache  respect  all  thinges  else  of  light 
Are  but  very  darkenes,  and  eke  terrestriall. 
So  the  light  of  the  Gospell  overshineth  them  all. 
Wherefore  with  great  comforte  I  receive  your  counsel!. 
With  hartie  thanks  unto  you,  the  light  of  the  Gospell. 

Light  of  the  Gospell.  Do  so,  and  by  faith,  then  shall 
you  obtaine 
Whatsoever  you  desire,  the  scripture  saith  plaine  : 
For  quicquid  petieritis  in  nomine  rneOf 
It  must  of  trueth  needes  be  understode  soe  : 
That  without  faith,  whatsoever  wee  fortune  to  crave, 
Wee  may  not  looke  for  it  our  desire  to  have. 
Faith  moveth  mountains,  so  it  be  pure  faith  indeede, 
By  fayth  wee  obtaine  whatsoever  wee  neede  : 


286  NEW  CUSTOME.  [aCT 


Then  faith  shall  restore  to  you  more  thinges  then  this, 
Beleve  me,  Primitive  Constitution,  whatsoever  is  amisse. 
But  where  be  those  reprobates,  devoyde  of  all  grace, 
Who  lately  misused  you,  as  you  saide,  in  this  place? 

New  Custome.  They  be  sodenly  departed,  I  wote  not 
well  whether, 
For  I  left  them  right  now  bothe  heere  together : 
They  cannot  be  farre  hence,  I  know  very  well, 
Where  they  be,  there  is  none  if  wee  ask,  but  can  tell. 

Light  of  the  Gospell.  Do  you  knowe  them  agayne,  if 


you  meete  them  aright 


New  Custome.  Yea,  sir,  that  I  do,  even  at  the  first 

sight. 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  Then  let  us  not   tarie,  but  go 

seek  them  straite. 
New  Custome.  At  hande  I  am  readie  on  ypu  for  to 

wayte.  [Exeunt. 

ACTUS  II.    SCENA  II. 

Hypocrisie,  Perverse  Doctrine,  and  Igno- 
RAUNCE  enter. 

Hypocrisie.  Perverse  Doctrine,  I  say,  take  heede  in 
any  sortc 
That  thou  never  beleve  whatsoever  they  reporte, 
Though  they  of  the  gospell  never  so  muche  do  preache, 
Every  man  will  not  credite  whatsoever  they  teache. 
They  will  not  say,  all  beleeve,  when  they  do  not,  I  pro- 
mise thee: 
For  that  time  will  never  come,  in  this  world,  trust  mee. 
Tushe,  tushe,  be  thou  busied  in  any  case 
To  discredite  their  preachinge  in  every  place. 
If  they  teache  them  one  thing,  then  teache  thou  the 

contrarie ; 
And  if  that  no  scripture  for  thy  place  thou  have  readie, 
In  woordes  that  suppiie,  whiche  wanteth  in  reason, 
For  ill  thinges  applied,  somtime,  in  good  season, 
As  of  better  eftsones  do  importe  the  wayte. 
So  they  be  well  ordered  by  good  poUicie  and  slayght. 


SC.  II.]  NEW  CUSTOME.  287 


Howbeit  their  doctrine  be  sounde ;  yet  their  vices  fynd 
out, 

As  this  is  a  sloven,  or  this  is  a  iowte  : 

Hee  speaketh  on  envie,  such  a  one  for  neede ; 

This  saith  it  in  woordes,  but  h^e  thiiiketh  it  not  in  deede. 

Upon  greatter  occasion  they  sticke  not  to  rave, 

Saying,  this  is  a  whooremaster,  viliaine,  hee  an  heretike 
knave, 

An  extorcioner,  a  theefe,  a  traytour,  a  murtherer, 

A  covetous  person,  a  common  userer. 

This  hee  doth  for  my  mistresse  his  wyve's  sake,  by  the 
roode, 

The  beiter  to  maintaine  and  supporte  thefrenchehoode. 

Remember  also,  that  it  weare  a  great  shame. 
For  thee  for  to  have  forgotten  thy  ovvne  name. 

Perverse  Doctrine,  of  right,  must  the  trueth  so  perverte, 

That  hee  never  let  it  sinke  into  any  manne's  harte, 

As  farre  as  he  can,  with  diligence  withstande. 

For  ever  it  behoveth  thee  to  be  readie  at  hande. 

To  strenthen  thine  owne  partes,  and  disprove  other 

doctrine, 
Whatsoever  shall  be  taught  that  is  contrarie  to  thine  : 
Still  pretende  religion,  whatsoever  you  say, 
And  that  shall  get  thee  good  credite  alway, 
Pleasing  the  multitude  with  suche  kinde  of  gear^*. 
As  with  them  to  the  whiche  most  enclined  they  are. 
Square  cappes,  longe  gownes,  with  tippettes  of  silke, 
Brave  coopes  in  the  churche,   surplices  as   white   as 

milke, 
Beades,  and  suche  like,  all  these  beare  the  price ; 
To  these  thinf2;es  applie  thy  attendant  devise  : 
And  other  likewise,  which  well  you  do  knowe, 
Whiche  all  of  great  holinesse  do  set  forthe  a  shewe. 
Though  some  of  them  doubtlesse,  be  indifferent,  what 

matter. 
They  furnishe  our  businesse  never  the  latter. 
For  these  of  antiquitie,  since  that  they  do  smell. 
Our  cause  must  commend  right  wonderful  well : 

^^  genri   The  4to  reads,  grace.     The  alteration  by  Mr.  Dodsley. 


288  NEW  CUSTOME,  [aCT  II. 


And  these  be  the  thinges  wherof  thou  hast  neede, 

The  better  of  thy  wyl  and  purpose  to  speede. 

Then  geve  thy  attendance,  and  so  be  sure  of  this, 

That  I  will  be  readie  and  never  wyll  misse 

To  assist  thee  still  in  workinge  thy  purpose, 

To  th'  advauncing  of  thee,  and  depressing  thy  foes. 

Perverse  Doctrine.  Gramercie,  good  sister,  even  with 
all  my  hearte, 
For  this  your  good  councell ;  and  for  my  parte. 
Whatsoever  in  this  case  may  bee  possibly  donne, 
I  shall  followe  your  preceptes  as  a  natural  sonne. 
For  the  matter  so  standes  if  wee  looke  not  well  about. 
That  we  quite  perishe  out  of  all  doubt, 
Unlesse  some  such  way  wee  take  out  of  hande. 
Whereby  wee  may  be  able  our  foes  to  withstande. 
And  for  this  cause  my  brother  Ignorance  and  I, 
Lest  it  should  chaunce  us  to  fall  into  jeoperdie, 
Through  envie  of  our  names  in  any  manne's  eare : 
For  this  intent,  I  say,  wee  did  diligently  care. 
Our  names  to  counterfaite  in  such  maner  of  sorte, 
That  where  ever  wee  goe  wee  may  win  good  reporte. 

Hypocrisie.  Of  my  faith  that  is  very  well  done  in 
deede, 
God  sende  thee  a  good  wit  still  at  thy  neede. 
And  that  in  thy  doinges  suchsuccesse  thou  maist  fynde, 
That  all  thinges  may  chaunce  to  thee  after  thy  minde. 
My  brother,  if  thou  have  ought  else  for  to  say, 
Speake  on,  or  that  I  departe  hence  away. 

Perverse  Doctrine,  Great  thankes  for  your  councel, 
and  if  yee  chaunce  to  go  thyther, 
You  may  meete  with  Ignorance,  to  hasten  him  hyther. 

Hypocrisie.  Farewel  he  shall  be  here,  you  shall  see 
even  anon.  [Exit. 

Perverse  Doctrine.  Alacke,   alacke,   now   my  .  good 
sister  is  gon, 
Whose  presence  to  enjoye  is  more  pleasant  unto  mee. 
Than  any  thing  whatsoever  in  the  worlde  coulde  bee. 
Good  occasion  have  I  suche  a  sister  to  embrace, 
For  by  her  means  I  lyve  and  enjoye  this  place. 


SC.   II.]  NEW  CUSTOME.  289 


Which  yet  I  possesse  as  longe  as  I  may, 

And  have  heretofore  many  a  faire  day. 

For  since  these  newe  heretickes,  the  devill  take  them  all, 

In  all  corners  began  to  barke  and  to  ball 

At  the  catholike  faith,  and  the  olde  religion. 

Making  of  them  bothe  but  matters  of  derision  ; 

Hypocrisie  hath  so  helped  at  every  neede, 

That  but  for  her,  hardly  were  wee  lyke  for  to  speeds. 

For  be  our  case  never  so  nye  driven  to  the  v/orst, 

Through  her  meanes  by  some  meane  take  no  place  at 

the  first: 
Yet  some  meanes  doth  shee  finde,  by  some  meanes  at 

the  length, 
That  her  waiesdo  prevaiie,  and  her  matters  get  strength. 
Shee  can  finde  out  a  thousand  guyles  in  a  trice, 
For  every  purpose  a  newe  strong  devise. 
No  matter  so  difficile  for  uian  to  find  out, 
No  businesse  so  daungerous,  no  person  so  stowt, 
But  of  th'  one  she  is  able  a  solucion  to  make, 
And  th'  others  greate  peryll  and  moode  for  to  slake. 
And  in  fine,  rauche  matter  in  fewe  woordes  to  containe, 
She  can  finde  out  a  cloke  for  every  rayne'^. 
What  person  is  there  that  beareth  more  swaie 
In  all  maner  of  matters  at  this  present  daye 
Throughout  the  whole  world,  though  of  symple  degree, 
And  of  small  power  to  sight  shee  seeme  for  to  bee? 
Consider  all  trades  and  condicions  of  lyfe, 
Then  shall  you  perceive  that  Hypocrisie  is  rife 
To  all  kinde  of  men,  and  of  every  age. 
So  farre  as  their  yeeres  them  therein  may  geve  know- 
ledge: 
Lo,  here  a  large  fieJde,  where  at  length  hee  may  walke, 
Who  list  of  this  matter  at  the  full  for  to  talke. 
To  declare  of  what  power,  and  of  what  efficacie, 
In  every  age,  countrey  and  time  is  Hypocrisie. 
But  I  may  not  about  suche  small  pointes  now  stande, 
The  affaires  they  be  greater  that  I  have  in  hande. 

'9  She  can  finde  out  a  cloke  for  every  rayne']    A  Proverb.     Tu  bai 
mantillo  di  ogni  acqua.     S. 

VOL.  I,  V 


290  KEW   CUSTOME.  [aCT  II. 


Ignorance  is  the  cause  that  I  so  longe  taiie  heere, 
And  beholde  where  the  blinde  bussard  doth  appeere. 
Come  on,  thou  ^osse  headed  knave,  thou  whoro^on 

asse,  I  say, 
Where  hast  thou  ben  sence  wee  departed  to-day? 
Enter  Igxoraunce. 
Ignoraunce.  Where  have  I  ben,   quod   you?    mary 

even  there  I  was. 
Whereas  I  would  have  geven  an  hundred  pounde,  by 

the  Masse, 
To  have  ben  here ;  for  never  sence  the  day  I  was  borne 
Was  I  so  neere  hande  in  peeces  for  to  have  ben  torne. 
For  as  I  was  goin^  up  and  downe  in  the  streete. 
To  see  if  1  coulde  with  Hypocrisie  meete, 
Beeholde  afarre  of  I  began  to  espie 
That  heretike  New  Custome,  with  another  in  his  com- 

panie. 
As  soone  as  they  sawe  mee,  they  hyde  thera  apace 
Came  towardes,  and  met  mee  full  in  the  face. 
I  am  glad  wee  have  fouude  you  then,  quod  this  heretike 

knave, 
For  you,  and  your  fellowe,  this  day  sought  wee  have 
In  every  place,  and  now  cannot  you  flie; 
And  with  these  woordes  both  they  came  very  nie. 
Whereat  I  so  feared,  I  may  tell  you  playne, 
That  I  thought  at  that  howre  I  should  have  ben  slayne. 
This  is  he,  quod  the  varlet,  of  whom  I  tolde  you  of  late. 
An  enemie  of  the  trewth,  and  incensed  with  hate 
Against  God  and  his  Churche,  and  an   impe  of  Hypo- 
crisie, 
A  foe  to  the  gospell,  and  to  trewe  divinitie. 
Thou  lyest,  heritique,  quod  I,  and  naught  elles  coulde 

I  say. 
But  brake  quickely  from  thera,  and  hither  came  away. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Who  is  hee  that  was  with   him, 

Simplicitie,  canst  thou  tell  ? 
Ignoraunce.  Not  I  sure,  but  some  call  him  the  light 

of  the  Gospell. 
A  good   personable  fellowe,  and   in  countenaunce   so 

bright, 
That  I  coulde  not  beholde  him  in  the  visage  aright. 


SC.   II.]  XEW  CUSTOME.  291 


Perverse  Doctrine.  Goddes  preciouse  woundes,  that 

slave !  marie  tie  on  hira,  de  ! 
Body  of  our  Lor-le,  is  be  come  into  the  conntrye? 
I  thinke  all  the  hereliques  in  the  worlde  have  taken  in 

haude. 
By  some  solemne  othe  to  pester  this  lande, 
Wiih  their  wicked  scisraes,  and  ahhominable  sectes. 
Now  a  vengeance  on  them  all,  and  the   devyll  breake 

their  neckes. 
Light  of  the  Gospell !  lig:ht  of  a  straw  ;  yet  what  ever 

bee  bee, 
I  wold  bee  were  han£:ed  as  hie  as  I  can  see. 

Ignoraunce.   What,  have  vou  hearde  o(  him  before 

this  : 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Heard  of  him  ?  vee,  that  have  I 

often  I  wis. 
If  there  be  any  in  the  worlde,  it  is  this  horeson  theefe, 
Beleeve  me,  Simplicitie,  that   will  worke  us   the  mis- 

chiefe. 
Hath  that  same  new  Jack  srotte  hira  suche  a  mate  ? 
Now  with  all  my  heart  a  pestilence  on  bis  pate. 
I  woulde  they  were  both  hanged  fairely  together, 
Or  elles  were  at  the  devill,  1  care  not  muche  whether. 
For  since  these  Genevian  doctours  carae  so  fast  into 

this  lande. 
Since  that  time  it  was  never  merie  with  Eaglande. 
First  came  New  Custome,  and  bee  gave  the  onsav  **. 
And  sithens  tbinges  have  gone  worse  even.*  dav. 
But  Simplicitie,  dost  thou  knowe  what  is  mine  intent? 
Ignoraunce.  Tell  mee,  and  I  shall  knowe  what  vou 

have  ment. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Our  matters  with  Crewelde  our 

friende  to  discusse. 
And  to  here  him,  what  counsell  in  this  case  bee  will 

geve  us. 
And  this  is  the  cause  I  have  taried  for  thee. 
Because  that  to  him  I  would  have  thee  goe  with  mee. 
But  see  where  bee  commeth  with  Avarice  sadly  walking. 
Let  us  listen,  if  wee  can,  whereof  they  be  talkinge. 
*  th4  cnsaM]  i.  e.  the  c-nset.     S. 


292  NEW  CUSTOME.  TaCT  II. 


ACTUS  II.     SCENA  III. 

Creweltie,  Avarice  entre.    Perverse  Doctrine 
and  Ignoraunce  tarie. 
Creweltie.  Nay,  by  Godde's  harte,  if  I  might  doe 

what  I  list, 
Not  one  of  them  all  that  should  scape  my  fist. 
His  nayles  ^',  I  would  plague  them  one  way  or  another. 
I  would  not  misse  him,  no,  if  hee  were  mine   owne 

brother. 
With  small  faultes  I  might  beare  as  I  sawe  occasion, 
And  punishe,  or  forgeve,  at  mine  owne  discretion, 
For  I  wote  that  sometime  the  wisest  may  fall ; 
But  heresie,  fie  on  that,  that  is  the  greatest  of  all. 
Every  stockes  should  be  full,  every  prison  and  jayle. 
Some  would  I  beate  with  roddes,  some  scorge   at  a 

carte's  tayle. 
Some   hoyse  their   heeles  upwarde,   some  beate  in  a 

sacke, 
Some  manickle  their  fingers,  some  binde  in  the  racke. 
Some  would  I  sterve  for  hunger,  some  would  I  hangie 

privilie, 
Saying,  that  themselves  so  dyed  desperately. 
Some  would  I  accuse  of  matters  of  great  weight, 
Openly  to  hange  them  as  trespassours  streight. 
A  thousand  mo  waies  could  1  tell,  and  not  misse, 
Whiche  here  in   England,  I  may   say  to  you,  I  have 

practised  ere  this, 
And  trust  by  his  woundes,  Avarice,  some  agayne  for  to 

trie, 
How  so  ever  the  world  goe  before  that  I  die. 

Avarice.  Now  I  will  tel  thee,  Creweltie,  by  Godde's 

sacrament  1  have  swore. 
It  were  pittie  but  thou  were  hanged  before. 

Creweltie.  Ha,  ha,  ha ;    I   had   as  liefe  they  were 

hanged  as  I. 

2'  Uis  nayles]  i.  e.  God's  nails.  So  afterwards  "  By  his  wounds" 
— "  His  blood*' — without  repetition  of  the  sacred  name  by  way  of 
introduction.     S. 


SC.  III.]  NEAV  CUSTOME.  293 


By  the  masse,   there  is  one   thing    makes   me  laugh 
hartely,  ha,  ha,  ha. 
Avarice.  I  pray  thee  wliat  is  that  ? 
Creweltie.    What?    ha,    ha,  ha;    I  cannot   tell   for 
Iciughinge,  I  wold  never  better  pastime  desire. 
Then  to  here  adosen  of  them  howling  together  in  thefier; 
Whose  noyse,  as  my  thinketh,  I  could  best  compare 
To  a  crie  of  houndes  folowing  after  the  hare. 
Or  a  rablement  of  bandogges    barking   at    a   beare, 
ha,  ha,  ha. 
Avarice.  I  beshrew  thy  knaves  fingers  with  my  very 
hearte, 
The  devill  will  reward  thee,  whose  darling  thou  arte. 
But,  sirra,  I   pray  thee,  if  it  had  chanced  me  in  those 

daies  in  thy  handes  to  have  fel, 
I  thinke,  sure,  thou  wouldst  have  ordred  mee  well. 
Creweltie.  His  bloud,   I  would  I   might   have  once 
seene  that  chaunce, 
I  would  have  vext  thee  with  a  vengeaunce,  for  olde 
acquaintance. 
Avarice.  Why  so?    I  was  alwaies  thy  furderer   in 

those  daies,  I  am  sure. 
Creweltie.  Yee,  but  what  was  the  cause?  thine  owne 
profit  to  procure. 
For  so  that  thou  mightest  vauntage  and  lucre  obtaine, 
Thou  wouldest  not  sticke  to  bring  thine  owne  brother  to 
payne. 
Avarice,  Ha,  ha,  ha ;  no,  nor  father  and  mother,  if 
there  were  ought  to  be  got, 
Thou  mightest  sweare,  if  I  could,  I  would  bring   them 

to  the  pot. 
Whereof  a  like  historic  I  shall  tell  thee,  Creweltie, 
In  Englande,  which   my  self  plaied  in   the    daies  of 
queene  Marie  ^. 

22  In  Englande,  which  my  self  plaied  in  the  duits  cf  queene  Marie.] 
In  Foxe's  third  Volume  of  Ecclesiastical  History,  1631,  p.  799,  is  an 
account  of  one  Richard  Woodman,  who  was  burnt  at  Lewes,  with 
nine  others,  on  the  22d  of  June,  1557.  The  circumstances  attend- 
ing his  apprehension  resemble  those  abovementioned,  and  seem  to 
be  the  same  alluded  to  by  the  Author  of  this  INIorality. 


294  NKW   CUSTOM  E.  [act   II. 

Twoo  biotliors  iIumg  wore  dwelling,  youiiii:  g;cntilmen, 

bill  \\\c  hey  re 
Had  substaiicinll  rcvcncwos,  his  stocke  also  was  fairc : 
A  man  of  i^ood  conscience,  and  stndions  of  ll\e  g'ospell. 
Which  (he  other  brother  pereeivinu;  very  well, 
Perswadod  him  by  all  meanes,  since  he  was  so  bent, 
To  be  constant  in  opinion,  nnd  not  to  relent, 
Which  done,  hee  iX^we  notice  to  the  officc^rs  abont, 
Howe  they  should  come  with  searche  to  Inid  his  brother 

out ; 
Who,  when  hee  was  once  in  this  sorte  apprehended, 
Shortly  after  his  life  in  the  fier  hee  ended. 
The  other  had  the  most  part  of  all  his  lyvinge. 
How  saist,  sir  knave?    is   not  this  the    nere    way   to 

thrivinge? 
Creweli'ic.  O  unreasonable   Avarice,  unsaciable  with 

gayne. 
Avarice.    What,    this?    tushe,   it   was  but  a   meric 

trayne. 
Crewel  tie.    For    hiker's   sake    his   owne    brother   to 

betraye? 
Hence,  Judas,  with  these  doinn-es  T  can  not  awayc^. 
Avarice.  T  was  ever  with  hitn,  still  readie  at  hande. 
Continually  sui;i;estini;'  of  the  house  and  the  lande. 
And  yet  to  tell  you  the  trueth,asin  deedethe  thinge  is, 
Of  my  conscience  I  thinke  the  best  part  was  his. 
Crewellie.  By    Godde's   glorious    wounds,    hee  was 

worthy  of  none ; 
But  thou  to  be  whipped  for  thy  greedie  suggestion. 
Avarice.  Harte  of  God,  man,  be  the  meancs  better 

or  worse, 
T  passe  not,  I,  so  it  be  good  for  the  purse,  ha,  ha,  ha. 

^  I  can  not  awnur.l  An  oxprossioii  of  dislike  or  aversion  used  by 
almost  every  writer  of  the  times.  Hen  Jonson's  Cunthia's  licveLs, 
A.  4.  8.5. 

"  Of  all  nymphs  i'the  court,  I  ainiiot  uwiiii  rvith  her  ." 

Poetaster,  A.  S.  S.  4.  "  —  and  do  not  brin<j  your  ealin*;  player 
•'  with  you  there  ;  I  cannot  incmy  icith  Jiiin." 

Ihrtliolomcic  Fair,  A.  1.  S.  (>.  "  Good  i'faitb,  1  will  eat  heartily 
"  too,  because  I  will  be  no  Jew,  /  could  Jiewr  dway  with  (hat  stift- 
"  nocked  generation." 


Sr.  III.]  NF.V/   <ir»TOM  K.  295 

I'crverHc  Doclrinc   W  yon    love   ihc.    piirsu  so  well, 
Avarice,  aH  yon  H'.\y  \n<\<'A'A\(t, 
Tlien  hcljx!  moc  with  your  c;ourK:f.'ll  now  at  a  necdc. 
Avarice.  What,  Fervcrsf'  Doctrine,   and  I;^noranncc 
too,  W(.'r<;  yon  hoth  so  iiC(;rc? 
W(!c  }iMfJ  tliou^-Jit  at  om  coinriiin^  that  no  jriao  had  hen 
lieere. 
Ignorauna;.    Wee   have    })en  in  this  place  ever  since 
tliat  yon  staide, 
And  wee  hav(i  hearde  also  what  ho  ever  yon  havoHayde. 
CreweUie.    Welcome    bothe,   on  my  faith,  and  I  am 
glad  it  was  our  chaunce 
To  meete  with  yon  here,  PcrverHe  Doctrine,  and  fgno- 

raunce. 
Whie,  how  p^othe  the  worlde?  my  tliinkes  yon  he  sad. 
PerveTHC  Doctrine,   Mary,  Ciod  have  morcie,  but  there 
is  small  cause  to  be  {;lad  : 
For excepte  you  come  upeedely  with  your  lielpint^handc. 
No  doul)t  wee  shall  shortly  be  banished  the  lande. 
Avarice.  Whie  so,  Perverse  Doctrine? 
CreweUie.   I  pray  tli(;e,  let  rnect  uriderstande. 
Perverse  Doclrine.   Whie  so?  you  knowe  howe,  since 
lierisie  came  lately  in  place, 
And    New  (/ustornc,    that   vile    scismatifjue,  bej^an  to 

deface 
All  ourolde  doinj^s,  our  service,  our  rites,  that  of  yore 
Have  bene  of  ^reat  price  in  the  olde  time  before: 
Our  selves  have  been  enforced  almost  for  to  fiye 
The  countrie,or  else  covertly  in  some  corner  to  lye. 
CreweUie.   liy  the  Masse  that  is  trewe,  for  f  dare  not 
apf)eere, 
Who  80  ever  would  (^eve  mee  twenty  ]>ounds  landes  by 
the  yeere. 
Avarice.  Ha,  ha,   ha;  by  C/odde's  footc,  and  I  was 
never  in  better  case  in  my  lif, 
For  covetousries  with  the  clerj^ie  was  never  so  rife. 
Wherefore  I  have  nocansein  suchesortto  be^^reeved, 
Yet  1  woulde  I  could  tell,  sirs,  how  you   rnif,^ht  be   rc- 
leeved. 


296  NEW  cusroME.  [act  ir. 


Perverse  Doctrine.  Nowe,   sirha,    to  mende   up  this 
matter  with  all : 
Preciouse  God,  it  fvettes  mee  to  the  very  gall. 
For  now  of  late  that  slave,  that  varlet,  that  heretique, 

Lighte  of  the  Gospell, 
Is  come  over  the  sea,  as  some  credibly  tell, 
Whom  New  Custome  doth  use  in  all  matters  as  a  stale, 
The  mostennemie  to  us  in  the  worlde  alway; 
Whose  rancour  is  suche,  and  so  great  is  his  spight, 
That  no  doubt  hee  will  straightway  banishe  us  quight, 
Unlesse  wee  provide  some  remedie  for  the  contrary, 
And   with  speede ;    this  is   treuth   that   I    tell   thee, 
Creweltie. 
Creweliie.  His  woundes,  hart  and  bloud,  is  he  come 

without  any  naye  ? 
Ignoraunce.  Yee  verely,  for  with   these  eyes  I  sawe 

him  to  daye. 
Creweltie.  Now  I  would  hee  were  here,  I  woulde  so 
dresse  the  slave, 
That  I  warranthee  should  beare  mee  a  marke  to  his  grave. 
First  I  would  buffet  him  thus,  then  geve  him  a  fall; 
Afterwarde  I  would  dashe  out  his  braynes  at  the  wall. 
Avarice.  Holde  your  handes,  you  rude  knave,  or  by 
Godde's  bodie  I  sweare, 
I  wyll  quickely  fetche  my  fist  from  your  eare. 

Perverse  Doctrine.  Tushe,  tushe,  it  availes  naught  to 
chafen,or  to  chide. 
It  were  more  wisedome  with  speede  some  redresse  to 
provide. 
Creweltie.  Redresse?  nowe  by  Godde's  guttes,  I  will 
never  staye, 
Tyll  I  finde   meanes   to   ridde   the   beast   out   of  the 

waye. 
I  wyll  cuthim  of  the  slampambes,  I  holde  him  a  crowne, 
Where  so  ever  I  meete  him,  in  countrie,  or  towne. 
Ignoraunce.  What  order  you  will  take,   it  were  best 
make  relation. 
For  moe  wittes,  as  you  knowe,  may  do  better  than 
one. 


SC.  III.]  NEW  CUSTOME.  297 


Creweltie.  I  wyll  do  then  what  so  ever  shall  come  in 
my  head, 
I  force,  not  I  '^*,  so  the  vyllaine  were  dead. 

Ignoraunce.  And    of  my  furtherance,   whatsoever  I 
may  do,  you  be  sure, 
Your  good  state  againe,  if  I  can,  to  procure, 
With  my  uttermost  help  to  suppresse  yonder  rascail, 
For  by  the  masse,  you  papists  I  like  best  of  all. 

Perverse  Doctrine.   Then  can  wee  not  doo  amisse,   I 
conjecture  lightly, 
For  where  as  al  these  come,  Perverse  Doctrine,  Ava- 
rice, Ignoraunce,  and  Creweltie: 
There  goeth  the  hare,  except  all  good  lucke  goe  awrie. 
But,  sirs,  it  is  good,  lest  your  names  you  discrie. 
To  transpose  them  after  some  other  kinde, 
Els  bee  sure  with  the  people  much  hatred  to  finde. 
As  for  Perverse  Doctrine,  Sounde  Doctrine ;  for  lo-no- 

raunce,  Simplicitee ; 
With  these  coulours,  of  late, our  selves  clokedhave  we. 
Creweltie.  Wliat  then  shall  I,  Creweltie,  bee  called 

in  your  judgement? 
Perverse  Doctrine.    Mary,  Justice  with  Severitie,  a 

vertue  most  excellent. 
Avarice.  What  will   you  terme  Avarice,  I  pray  you 

let  mee  heare? 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Even  Frugalitie,  for  to  that  ver- 
tue it  commeth  most  neare. 
Avarice.  Contente  by  his  woundes,  I,  but  wee  must 
look  to  our  feete. 
Least  wee  stumble   in  these  names  when  so  ever  wee 
meete. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Yea,  see  you  take  heede  to  that 
in  any  manner  of  case, 
So  may  you  delude  the  people  in  every  place. 

Creweltie.  Come   then,  it .  is  time  hence  that  away 

wee  departe. 
Ignoraunce.  Wee  are   redie  to  follow  with  a   most 
wyllyng  hart. 

.    '■^^  I  force,  not  I,]  i.  e.  I  care  not.    Camden  in  his  Remains  says, 
"  Iforce  not  of  such  fooleries."  Shakspeare  has  the  same  phrase.  S. 


298  NEW  CUSTOME.  [aCT  Hi. 


Avarice.  But,  sirs,  because  wee  have  taried  so  longe. 
If  you  bee  good  fellowes,  let  us  depart  with  a  songe. 

Creweltie.  I  am  pleased,  and  therefore  let  every  man 
Follow  after  in  order  as  well  as  hee  can. 
The  first   Soinge. 
Well  handled,  by  the  masse,  on  every  side. 
Come,  Avarice,  for  wee  twoo  will  no  longer  abide. 

\^E:iit  Creweltie  and  Avarice^ 
Perverse  Doctrine,  Farewell  to  you  bothe,  and  God 
sende  you  successe, 
Suche  as  may  glad  us  all  in  your  present  businesse. 
Now  they  bee  departed,  and  wee  may  not  tary, 
For  it  lieth  us  upon  all  to  bee  sturryng,  by  S.  Mary. 
New  Custome  prevayleth  much  every  where, 
But,  no  matter,  they  bee  fooles  that  do  geeve  him  suche 

eare. 
Let  old  custome  prevayle  rather,  it  is  better  than  new, 
This  all  will  confesse,  that  thinke  scripture  is  true. 
Doo  as  thy  fathers  have  doone  before  thee  (quoth  hee) 
Then  shalt  thou  bee  certayne  in  the  right  way  to  bee. 
And  sure  that  is  better  then  to  followe  the  trayne 
That  echeman  inventeth  of  his  owne  proper  brayne. 
Whichehath  brought  theworlde  to  this  case,  as  we  see, 
That  every  day  wee  heere  of  some  notorious  heresie. 
Yet  all  is  the  Gospell,  whatsoever  they  say. 
Well,  if  it  chaunce  that  adogge  hath  a  daye, 
Woe  then  to  New  Custome,  and  all  his  mates,  tushe, 

tushe. 
No  man  the  Gospell  will  esteemethena  rushe. 
What  will  that  other  heretik  do,  Light  of  the  Gospel,  I 

pray? 
Dare  not  once  shewe  his  face  more  than  we  at  this  day. 
But  come,  Ignoraunce,  let  us  follow  after  apace. 
For  wee  have  abidden  all  to  long  in  this  place. 

Ignoraunce.  Let  us  go  then,  but  by  the  masse,  I  am 
vengeance  drie, 
1  pray  let  us  drinke  at  the  ale-house  herebie. 

Perverse  Doctrine.    Content   in  fayth,  thither  with 
speede  let  us  hie. 


SC.  I.]  NEW  CUSTOM E.  299 


ACTUS  III.    SCENA  I. 

Light  of  the  Gospell,  New  Custome,  Perverse 
Doctrine. 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  They  be  not,  this  way,  as  farre 

as  I  can  see : 
Unlesse  they  have  hidden  them  selves  up  privilie. 
For  in  presence  of  Light  of  the  Gospel,  and  Primative 

Constitution, 
Undoubtedly  such  reprobates  can  have  no  habitation. 
New  Custome.   Verely  I  do  fiiide  it  so  even  as  you 

have  saide, 
For  at  your  sight  they  all  flie  away  as  dismaide. 
Wherefore  I  have  great  cause  to   geeve  you  thankes, 

Light 
Of  the  Gospell,  that  put  thus  my  enemies  to  flight. 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  Nay,  they  be-  my  enemies  also 

that  be  enemies  to  you. 
In  so  muche  as  your  dealinges  be  both  vertuouse  and 

true. 
For  what  is  the  gospell  else,  whereof  I  am  Light  ? 
But  trewth,  equitie,  veritie,  and  right? 
They  be  enemies  to  God  too,  and  all  liers  impure, 
In  so  muche  as  he  is  called  veritie  in  the  scripture. 
And  the  lying  lippes  with  speakers  of  vanitie, 
The  Lorde  him  selfe  will  revenge  with  extremitie. 
But  see,  what  is  hea  that  aprocheth  so  nie? 

New  Custome.  Of  whom  I  tolde  you,  it  is  Perverse 

Doctrine  verelie. 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  Then  let  us  a  little  steppe  out 

of  the  waye, 
If  haplie  wee  may  heare  what  hee  will  say. 

Perverse  Doctrine.  A,  sirrha,  by  my  trothe  there  is  a 

vary  good  vaine: 
Ignoraunce  hath  well  lyned  his  cappe  for  the  rayne, 
I  coulde  have  taried  longer  there  with  a  good  wyll, 
But  as  the  proverbe  saith,  it  is  good  to  keepe  still, 
One  head  for  the  reckoing,  bothe  sober  and  wise, 
Wherefore  in  this  thinge  I  have  followed  that  guise. 


300  NEW  CUSTOM E.  [aCT  III. 


Ignoraunce  is  but  a  dolte,  it  is  I  that  must  drudge. 
For  neede  (they  say)  maketh  the  olde  wife  and  man 

both  to  trudge. 
Suche  snares  wee  shall  laye  for  these  heretikes,  1  trust. 
That  New  Custome,  and   his  fellowes,  shall  soone  lye 

in  the  dust. 
If  Creweltie  may  prevaile,  hee  will  never  slake, 
Tyll  hee  have  brought  a  thousand  of  them  to  a  stake. 
Avarice  hath  promised  to  do  what  in  him  laye, 
Who  hath  ben  in  greate  credite  with  the  worlde  alway. 
But  if  Ignoraunce  may  get  place,  there  shall  wee  do  well, 
Then  adewe  all  idle  heretikes,  and  vaine  talke  of  the 

gospell, 
For  me  Perverse  Doctrine,  this  shall  be  my  fetche. 
To  keepe  constant  the  mindes  of  all  I  can  cetche. 
Lest  these  glosers  sometimes   they  chaunce  to  heare 

preaching, 
And  thereby  be  converted,  and  credite  their  teachinge. 
For  I  trust  shortly  to  bring  it  to  passe, 
That  lesse  knowledge  of  the  Gospell  shall  serve  by  the 

masse. 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  Let  us  inclose  him,  that  hee  may 

not  flie. 
Else  wyll  hee  be  gone  when  hee  doth  us  espie. 

0  impe  of  Antechrist,  and  seede  of  the  devyll  I 
Borne  to  all  wickednesse,  and  nusled  in  all  evylP^. 

Perverse  Doctrine.  Nay,  thou  stinking  heretike,  art 
thou  there  in  deede? 
Accordinge  to  thy  naughtines  thou  must  looke  for  to 
speede, 
New  Custome.  Godde*s  holie  woorde  in   no  wise  can 
be  heresie, 
Though  so  you  terme  it  never  so  falsly. 

Perverse  Doctrine.  Yee  preciouse  whoreson,  art  thou 
there  too  ? 

1  thinke  you  have  pretended  some  harme  mee  to  doo, 
Helpe,  helpe,  I  say,  let  mee  be  gone  at  once. 

Else  I  will  smite  thee   in  the  face  with  my   fist,  by 
Godde's  bones. 

-^  nuded  in  all  evylf]  i.  e.  nursed^  fostered.     S. 


SC.  I.]  NEW  CUSTOME.  301 


^ew  Custome,  You  must  be  contented  a  little  season 
to  stay, 
Light  of  the  Gospel!,  for  your  profite,  hath  some  thing 
to  say. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  I  will  heare  none  of  your  preach- 
inges,  I  promise  you  playne, 
For  what  ever  you  speake,  it  is  but  in  vayne. 

Light  of  the  GospelL  In  vayne  it  shall  not  be  spoken, 
I  know  very  well. 
For  God  hath  alwaies  geven  suche  power  to  his  gos- 
pel!, 
That  where  ever,  or  by  whom  declared  it  bee. 
It  shall  redounde  unto  his  owne  honour  and  glorie. 
God  is  glorified  in  those  whom  hee  dooth  electe, 
God  is  glorified  in  those  also  whom  hee  dooth  rejecte. 
The  electe  are  saved,  by  that  in  the  woorde  they  bee- 

leeve. 
But  the  other,  because  no  credence  they  geeve 
To  the  truthe,  cannot  bee  but  blameable, 
Commytting  a  fault  of  all  faultes  most  damnable. 
For,  Si  ad  eos  non  venissem,  saieth  Christ  our  Saviour, 
If  I  had  not  come  unto  them  with  the  worde,  this  is 

sure, 
In  farre  better  case  the  unfaithfuU  had  ben 
For  in  this  one  respect  they  had  had  no  sinne. 
But  where  the  trueth  is,  and  yet  there  contemned. 
Of  Christ  his  owne  mouth  all  suche  are  condempned. 
Thus  the  gospell  of  Christ,  be  it  received  or  no, 
Shevv^eth  the  glory  of  God  where  so  ever  it  go. 

Perverse   Doctrine.    I  were  contente  to  abide,  and 
knowe  your  pleasure : 
But  for  businesse,  at  this  time  I  have  no  leysure. 

Light  of  the  Gospell.  What  leisure  ought  a  man  at 
all  times  more  to  have, 
Then  to  endeavour  bothe  his  body  and  sowle  for  to 
save  ? 
New  Custome.  For  that  care,  all  other  cares  wee  must 

set 'aside. 
Perverse  Doctrine,  Say  on  then,  for  paciently  I  minde 
to  abide. 


302  XEAV  CL^STOME.  [aCT   lil. 


Light  of  the  Gospell.  Not  to  heare  what  is  spoken  is 
onely  sufficient, 
But  to  put  it  in  practice  with  sincere  intent 
What  so  ever  is  taught  us  concerning:  good  doing, 
Expressing  it  plainely  in  our  vertuouse  lyving. 

Perverse  Doctrine.   Whie  what  would  you  have  mee 

in  living  expresse  ? 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  Even  the  gospell,  which  is  no- 
thing else,  doubtlesse. 
But  amendment  of  life,  and  renouncing  of  sinne: 
With  displeasure  toward  your  selfe  for  the  faultes  you 
were  in. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  How  shall  I  displease  my  selfe  in. 

sinne  I  would  knowe  ? 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  In  considering  that   nothing 
bnngeth  man  so  lowe 
Out  of  Godde's  favour,  as  sinne  :  nothing  setteth  him 

so  hie. 
As  lothing  the  same,  and  calling  to  him  for  his  mer- 
cie. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Verely  I  am   sorie  for  my  fore- 
passed  demeanour, 
But  that  can  not  availe  mee  but  little,  I  am  sure. 
Light  of  the  Gospell.    Why  think   you    so  ?    boldely 

tell  me  your  minde. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Because  Godde's  mercie  is  farre 

enough  behinde. 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  Godde's  mercie  is  at  hande,  if 

you  repent  faithfully. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  I  repent  my  sinnes,  and  for  them 
am  sorie  hartely  ; 
But  how  shall  I  be  sure  mercie  for  to  obtaine  ? 

Light  of  the    Gospell.  Credite  mee  trewly,  for  my 
woordes  are  not  vaine, 
I  am  Light  of  the  Gospell,  and  have  full  authoritie 
To    pronounce    to    the   penitent   forgivenesse   of  ini- 

quitie, 
So  that  in  asking,  you  put  your  assurance  to  speede, 
Then  no  doubt  you  have  obtained  mercie  in  deede. 


SC.  I.]  NEW  CUSTOME.  303 


Perverse  Doctrine.  This  assurance,  how  cometh  it  ? 

declare,  I  pray  you. 
Light  of  the    Gospell.    In  thinking  that  Christ  his 
woordes  and  promises  are  trewe ; 
And  as  hee  cannot  deceive,  so  cannot  be  disceived, 
Which  faith  of  all  Christians  must  nedes  be  received. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  What  thing  is  fayth  ?  I  pray  you 

recite. 
Light  of  the    Gospell.    A  substance  of  thinges  not 
appering  in  sight, 
Yet  which  wee  looke  for,   for  so  saincte  Paule  doth 

define. 
To  the  Hebrews,  the  eleventh  chapter  and  the  first  line. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  How  to   purchase  this   faith,    I 

would  I  could  tell. 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  Certeinly  by  mee  also,  the  Light 
of  the  Gospell ; 
For  fayth  commeth  by  the  woorde,  when  we  reade  or 

heare, 
As  by  the  same  sainct  Paule  it  doth  plainely  eppere. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Geve  mee  leave  then  to  embrace 

you,  I  pray  you  hartely. 
Light  of  the  Gospell  With  all  my  very  heart,  I  re- 
ceive you  courtesely. 
Perverse  Doctrine.    To  thee   I    geve    most   humble 
thankes,  O  God  immortall. 
That  it  hath  pleased  thee,  mee  from  my.wickednesse  to 

call; 
And  where  as  I  deserved  no  mercie,  but  judgement, 
Yet  to  powre  downe  thy  pardon  on  mee  most  aboundant, 
Revoking  mee  from  reprobates,  and  members  of  hell, 
To  win  mee  in  societie  v/ith  the  Light  of  the  Gospell, 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  Stande  up,  there  is  some  what 

else  yet  behynde. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  I  wholly  yelde  my  selfe  to  you, 

use  me  after  your  minde. 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  Perverse  Doctrine  you  shall  be 
calde  no  more  after  this. 
But    Sincere   Doctrine,  as   now   I   trust  your   trewe 
name  is. 


304  NEW  CUSTOME.  [aCT  III. 


Perverse  Doctrine,  By  Godde's  grace,  while  I  live,  I 

will  so  endevour, 
That  my  life  and  my  name  may  accorde  thus  for  ever. 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  Then  all  wicked  companie  you 

must  cleane  forsake, 
And  flie  their  societie,  as  a  tode,  or  a  snake. 

Perverse  Doctrine,   I  abandon  them  quite,  what  so 

ever  they  bee. 
New  Custome.  Well,  Sincere  Doctrine,  hearken  also 

unto  mee, 
Whom  needes  you  must  followe  if  you  wyll  do  well. 
Since  you  have  imbraced  the  Light  of  the  Gospell. 
I  am  not  New  Custome,  as  you  have  ben  misled. 
But  am  Primitive  Constitution,  from  the  verie  head 
Of  the  church,  which  is  Christ  and  his  disciples  all, 
And  from  the  fathers,  at  that  time,  taking  originall. 
By  mee  then  you  must  learne,  for  your  owne  beheast. 
And  for  all  vocations  what  is  judged  the  best. 

Perverse  Doctrine.  I  receave  you  gladly,  with  thankes, 

for  your  jentlenes, 
At  your  handes  craving  earnestly  for  my  trespas  for- 

gyvenes. 
New  Custome.  It  is  easly  forgeven. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Now  as   touching   my    apparell, 

what  councell  do  you  give  ? 
For  I  see  well  that  in  the  constitution  primitive, 
They  used  no  suche  ganiient  as  I  have  on  heare, 
But  fashioned  it  after  some  other  maner. 

New  Custome.  So  did  they  trewly,  I  confesse  it  in 

deede ; 
But  in  suche  things  a  man  ought  not  to  take  so  greate 

heede, 
For  the  wearing  of  a  gowne,  cap,  or  any  other  garment, 
Surely  is  a  matter,  as  mee  seemeth,  indifferent, 
Howbeit,  wyse  Princes,  for  a  difference  to  be  had, 
Hath  comrnaunded  the  clargiein  suche  sorte  to  be  clad  ; 
But  hee  who  puttes  his  religion  in  wearing  the  thing. 
Or  thinkes  him  selfe  more  holly  for  the  contrarie  doing. 
Shall  prove  but  a  foole,  of  what  ever  condition 
Hee  bee,  for  sure  that  is  but  meere  superstition. 


SC.  I.]  NEW  CUSTOME.  305 


Other  thinges  there  be  which  have  ben  abused, 
Tollerable  enough,  if  well  they  were  used  : 
Wherefore  use  your  apparell,  as  is  comely  and  decent, 
And  not  against  scripture  any  where  in  my  judgement, 
Light  of  tlie  Gospell.  No  sure :  for  God  waieth  not, 
who  is  a  sprite, 
Of  any  vesture,  or  outward  appearance  a  mite, 
So  the  conscience  be  pure,  and  to  no  sin  a  slave, 
That  is  all  which  hee  most  gladly  would  have. 

New  Custome.  Well,  these  having  declared,  and  suf- 
ficiently taught, 
And  I  trust  on  your  parte  perceaved  as  they  ought: 
By  your  pacience,  I  mind  to  departe  for  a  season. 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  If  your  businesse  bee  so,  it  is 

but  reason. 
New  Custome.  With  great  thankes  unto  you,  Light 
of  the  Gospell,  for  the  jentlenes  I  have  found 
At  your  handes,  as  of  due  desert  I  am  bound. 

Light  of  the  Gospell.  The  Lorde  be  your  guide  whi- 
ther so  ever  you  departe. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Humble  thankes,  sir,  I  yelde  you 
from  the  bottome  of  my  hearte. 
Albeit  in  this  parte  so  small  be  my  skyll. 
That  I  may  not  performe  them  according  to  my  wyll. 
New  Custome.  The  peace  of  God  be  with  you  both 
for  ever  more.  [Exit. 

Edification  enireth. 
Where  so  ever  Light  of  the  Gospell  goeth  before, 
There  I  Edification  do  followe  incontinent, 
As  unto  the  same  a  necessary  consequent : 
For  though  the  letter  alwaies  woorke  not  that  effect, 
Yet  surely  in  the  congregation  of  Godde's  elect, 
Where  the  light  and  force  taketh  place,  there  Edifica- 
tion 
Of  all  right  must  I  make  my  habitation, 
Endevour  then  alwaies  mee  to  retaine, 
So  shall  your  doctrine  not  be  gyven  in  vayne. 

Perterse  Doctrine.  I  receive  you  most  gladly ;  and  I 
truste  in  the  Lorde, 
That  for  ever  hereafter  wee  shall  well  accorde. 


306  NEW  CU9T0ME.  [aCT  III. 


Edification.  I  trust  so. 

Light  of  the  Gospell.  Fare  you  well,  now  you  are  not 
alone, 
For  this  small  while  I  must  needes  begone. 
Here,  take  at  my  handes  this  testament  booke, 
And  in  mine  absence  therein  I  pray  you  ernestly  looke. 
Perverse    Doctrine.    Your    commandement  shal   be 

done,  with  thankes  for  your  councel. 
Light  of  the  Gospell.  Then  shall  yee  sure  finde  great 
delight  in  the  gospell.  [Exit, 

AssURAUNCE  entreth. 
Edification  without  Assuraunce  vayleth  not  muche. 
Yet  where  they  both  do  meete,  surely  there  force  is 

suche, 
That  to  Godde's  kingdome  they  open  the  way, 
The  sweete  place  of  rest,  and  perpetual  joye. 
For  assurance  in  Christ  Jesus  without  manne's  further 

merite. 
Is  fully  sufficient  Godde's  favour  to  inherite : 
Wherefore,  Light  of  the  Gospell  willed  mee  soe, 
That  to  you.  Edification  with  all  speede  1  should  goe : 
So  that  with  Sincere  Doctrine  wee  joyned  in  unitie, 
Might  in  short  time  conduct  him  to  Godde's  perfect 
Felicitie. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  I  embrace  you,  Assuraunce,  that 

biisse  to  obtaine. 
Assuraunce.  Then  bee   you  assured,  that  you  shall 
not  bee  vayne ; 
For  if  that  Christe's  woordes  be  faithfull  and  just, 
Godde's  perfect  Felicitie  is  not  far  hence,  I  trust. 
Godde's  Felicitie  entreth. 
Verily,  where  Edification  and  Assuraunce  in  one  are 
alied, 
Godde's  Felicitie  is  at  hande,  it  may  not  be  denied, 
Which  hee  promiseth  to  suche  as  unfeinedly  crave. 
With  assurance  that  certainely  the  same  they  shall  have; 
Which  Felicitie  in  person  heere  I  do  represente, 
Who  by  God  himselfe  to  the  faythfull  am  sent, 
Prepared  for  them,  as  he  plainely  hath  sayde. 
Since  the  time  that  the  worlde's  foundations  werelaide  ; 


SC.  I.]  NEW  CUSTOME.  307 


Wherfore  great  thankes  unto  hym  doubtlesse  you  owe, 
That  it  would  please  him  suche  gifteson  you  to  bestowe, 
The  most  precious  thing  which  manne's  reason  doth 

excell, 
No  minde  can  conceave,  muche  lesse  tongue  can  tell. 
Perverse  Doctrine.  Too  him  therefore  let  us  geve  all 

maner  prayse, 
That  beareth  such  affection  to  mankinde  alwaies. 
O  Lorde,  thine  honour  might  be  great  in  heaven  so  hie, 
And  throughout  the  whole  earth  thie  everlasting  glorie. 
Geeve  grace  to  thy  people,  that  after  this  transitorie 
Life,  they  maye  come  to  thy  perfect  felicitie. 

Edification.   Defende  thy  churche,  O  Christ,  and  thy 

holy  congregation, 
Bothe  heere  in  England,  and  in  every  other  nation. 
That  wee  thy  trewth  may  attaine,  and  still  followe  the 

same, 
To  the  salvation  of  our  sowles,  and  glorie  of  thy  name. 
Assuraunce.  ^°  Preserve  our  noble  queene  EHzabeth, 

and  her  councell  all. 
With  thy  heavenly  grace,  sent  from  thy  seate  supernall. 
Graunt  her  and  them  long  to  lyve,  her  to  raigne,  them 

to  see 
What  may  alwaies  be  best  for  the  weale  publique's  com- 
modities^. 

The  Second  Songe. 


*  Preserve  our  noble  queene  Elizabeth,  &c.]  It  was  a  custom  at  the 
end  of  our  ancient  interludes  and  plays  to  conclude  with  a  solemn 
prayer  for  the  King  or  Queen,  the  council,  the  parliament,  or  the 
nobleman  by  whom  the  players  were  protected.  Many  instances  are 
produced  by  Dr.  Farmer  and  Mr.  Steevens,  in  their  last  Notes  on 
the  Epilogue  to  Second  Part  of  Henry  IV.  and  many  other  might  be 
added.  See  particularly  the  conclusion  of  Like  will  to  like,  quoth 
the  Devil  to  the  Collier,  1587.  TTie  longer  thou  ll.vest  the  more  a  fade 
thou  art.     B.  L.    N.  D.     Tlie  storie  of  Darius.  B.  L.  and  others. 

''''  commoditie.]  interest.     See  p.  207. 


308 


^/3 


K 


EDITION. 

''  A  New  Enterlude,  no  lesse  wittie  than  pleasant,  en- 
titled Ncwe  Custome ;  devised  of  late,  and  for  di- 
verse causes  nowe  set  forthe.  Never  before  this  tyme 
imprinted,  1573.  Imprinted*  at  London,  in  Fleet- 
streete,  by  William  Howe  for  Abraham  Veale,  dwell- 
ing in  Paule's  Churcheyarde,  at  the  signe  of  the 
Lambe,"  4to.  B.  L. 


*  The  imprint  is  not  upon  the  title  page  (which  contains  the 
list  of  the  persons  and  the  manner  in  which  the  action  may  be 
divided  among  four  persons)  but  at  the  end  of  the  piece. 


END  OF  VOL.  r. 


T.   WHITE,  PRINJKR, 
CRANE  COf Rf. 


^iifl 


iiiiii 


I  ills